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Broken  Wedding  Ring 


A  NOVEL 


Br      .    .     ...... 


BERTHA  M;  CLAY 


AOTHOR  OF 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A  SIN,"   "WIFE  IN  NAME  ONLY,''   "THE  DUKE'S  SECRET 
"A  TRUE  MAGDALEN,"    "DORA  THORNE,"   ETC.,   ETC. 


CHICAGO  : 

DONOHUE,  HENNEBERRY  &  CO., 

407-429  Dearborn  Street. 


AND  BOOHO  n 


DONOHUE  & 
HENNEBERRY 

CHICAGO 


*e* 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,    i 


CHAPTER  I. 


THE  walls  of  t]f?A  pretty  cow.try  town  of  Harbury,  in 
Kent,  were  all  placarded  with  the  name  of  Martin  Ray — 
Martin  Ray,  the  Radical,  the  Reformer ;  "  the  Voice  of  the 
People  " ;  as  he  liked  best  to  call  himself ;  the  philanthropist, 
the  hater  of  queen  and  aristocracy,  the  teacher  of  treason ; 
the  man  who  worked  for,  yet  lived  upon  the  people; 
the  man  who  was  half  genius,  half  madman,  half  poet, 
full  of  great  thoughts  all  distorted,  full  of  grand  ideas 
all  wrong  ;  a  man  whose  Tps  had  been  touched  by 
the  divine  fire  of  eloquence,  who  could  stir  the  hearts 
of  the  people  as  the  wind  stirs  the  leaves ;  a  man  who  had 
magnificent  conceptions  of  what  the  world  might  be  made, 
yet  failed  utterly  in  making  them  practical ;  a  man  over 
whom  a  wise  government  hesitates,  hardly  knowing  whether 
to  crush  him  or  to  take  him  by  the  hand  and  make  a  friend 
of  him.  More  than  one  prime  minister  had  knitted  his 
brows  over  the  name  of  Martin  Ray ;  more  than  one  popular 
outburst  had  followed  the  fire  of  this  man's  words.  He 
was  earnest  and  sincere.  He  hated  everything  that  apper- 
tained to  rovalty  ;  against  the  queen  as  a  woman  he  said 
never  a  woi'a — against  her  as  the  head  of  the  State  he  ut- 
lured  thunders  of  wrath.     The  aristocracy  he  hated  with 

961728 


4  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING* 

hcin'esi  hatred  '-  H^  V-6uld  have  taken  the  broad  acres  jf 
duke. ajad.eafl  and •sli-^r^a" them  among  the  laboring  poor. 
•H^'firolSsted'tKat  ^tia6  mohopoly  of  wealth  by  a  few  was  a 
gross  injustice  to  the  many ;  he  swore  that  he  would  give 
his  life  to  undo  the  wrong ;  at  the  same  time,  he  was  con- 
tent to  live  himself  upon  the  subscriptions  of  the  people 
whom  he  misled  and  excited  to  sedition. 

He  could  be  tracked  easily  as  the  flaming  fire 
that  lays  bare  the  prairie.  Wherever  he  went  he  was  fol- 
lowed by  loud  murmurs  of  popular  discontent,  and  then 
came  riot  and  imprisonment.  In  quiet  hamlets,  in  sleepy 
villages,  in  peaceful  towns,  in  factories,  workshops,  and 
garrets,  his  words  fell,  and  set  fire  to  those  who  listened. 

At  Harbury  there  had  been  a  trial  for  bribery  at  the 
elections.  "  There  is  sure  to  be  a  flaw  in  the  armor  there," 
thought  Martin  Ray  ;  "  it  is  the  very  place  for  a  paying  lect- 
ure by  the  *  working-man's  friend.'  "  So  the  walls  of  the 
old  town  were  placarded  with  the  name  of  Martin  Ray,  the 
famous  Radical,  and  the  people  thirsted  to  see  the  new 
champion  of  popular  rights.  Harbury  had  always  been  a 
quiet  Conservative  town,  the  inhabitants  of  which  had 
rarely  troubled  themselves  with  politics,  save  at  election 
times  ;  but  now  among  the  poor  and  the  artisan  class  a  new 
light  was  spreading.  They  were  no  longer  to  be  repressed 
and  contemned ;  every  man  was  to  have  his  due ;  there 
should  be  none  very  rich,  none  very  poor.  And  the 
man  who  was  to  help  in  the  accomplishment  of  all  this  was 
coming — "the  Voice  of  the  People,"  Martin  Ray.  No 
wonder  that  the  old  walls  were  placarded,  and  that  every 
gate  and  door  bore  his  name. 

The  largest  placard  of  all  was  that  opposite  the  house 
of  Amos  Hatton,  who  lived  in  Castle  Street,  Harbury,  the 
last  descendant  of  what  had  once  been  a  wealthy  and 
powerful  family.  For  generations  they  had  faded  and  de- 
cayed ;  they  had  no  longer  houses  or  lands,  nor  even  posi- 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING  RING,  g 

tion;  and  Amos  Hatton  had  been  compelled  to  apply 
himself  to  one  of  the  professions.  He  was  a  solicitor,  with 
a  small  but  paying  practice  ;  and,  being  a  staunch  Conserv- 
ative, the  name  of  Martin  Ray  in  large  letters  opposite  to 
his  door  displeased  him  greatly. 

When  he  came  down  to  breakfast  on  this  fine  May 
morning,  there  the  words  were,  looking  him  defiantly  in  the 
face,  while  his  pretty  daughter  Doris  was  gazing  at  them 
intently.     She  turned  when  he  entered. 

"  Papa,"  she  asked,  "  what  is  a  Radical  ?  '* 

The  old  lawyer's  face  flushed  hotly. 

"  I  will  not  answer  you  until  I  feel  calmer ;  to  say  the 
least  of  it,  it  is  most  atrocious  to  place  that  name  there." 

The  girl  looked  at  it  with  softened  eyes. 

"Martin  Ray,"  she  said — "it  is  not  a  bad  name, 
papa." 

*'It  is  not  the  name,  but  the  man,"  rejomed  the  lawyer. 
"  The  fellow  is  capable  of  anything  ;  and  unfortunately  he 
is  a  fine  orator,  they  say." 

"  I  should  like  to  hear  him,"  said  Doris. 

"  Hear  him  !  Do  you  want  your  ears  to  burn,  Doris, 
through  listening  to  such  doctrines  as  his  ?  Take  my  word 
for  it,  the  man  who  does  not  believe  in  and  serve  his 
queen  fails  to  serve  his  Maker.'* 

Doris  made  no  answer,  but  in  her  heart  she  said  that 
such  a  sweeping  condemnation  was  unfair — that  many  men 
to  whom  the  word  "  royalty,"  even,  was  an  abomination  tried 
their  best  to  lead  a  pure  life. 

"  I  do  not  see  what  politics  have  to  do  with  religion," 
said  Doris  dreamily. 

*'  When  a  man  is  true  in  one  thing,  he  is  likely  to  be 
true  in  all,"  declared  the  lawyer ;  "  and  if  he  is  false  in  one, 
he  is  apt  to  be  false  in  all.  Give  me  my  hat,  Doris  \  I  wUJ 
have  that  poster  down." 

His  daughter  smiled? 


6  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

"  You  can  tear  down  the  bill,  papa  ,  but  you  cannot  re« 
move  the  man,"  she  said. 

"Unfortunately,  no;  if  I  could,  I  would  have  him 
locked  up/' 

"  I  should  like  to  hear  him,"  said  Doris.  "  I  have 
never  heard  a  really  eloquent  speaker.  May  I  go  to  the 
lecture  ? " 

"  I  shall  be  ashamed  if  you  do,"  replied  the  lawyer. 

But  Doris  laughed. 

"  Not  quite  that.  Sir  John  Darke  is  going,  with  his 
wife  and  daughters.     I  should  like  to  go  also." 

*'  Well,  you  can  go,  Doris — that  is,  if  your  cousin  will 
accompany  you.  Just  once  will  not  matter,  and  it  will 
prove  to  you  what  nonsense  such  men  talk.  You  will  cer- 
tainly hear  a  fine  orator.  I  have  heard  that  Martin  Ray's 
words  fall  like  flame  and  set  his  hearers'  hearts  on  fire. 
Go,  but  do  not  mention  the  man's  name  to  me  again.'* 

Mr.  Hatton  finished  his  tea  and  went  off  to  the  office, 
where,  in  the  intricacies  of  "  Luvson  v.  Gother,"  he  forgot 
all  about  Martin  Ray ;  nor  did  he  dream  that  a  tragedy  had 
begun  that  day. 

Harbury  was  a  quiet  town,  with  very  few  amusements, 
and  such  a  thing  as  a  great  political  lecture,  no  matter  on 
what  side,  was  not  to  be  neglected. 

Doris  Hatton  was  well  pleased  to  go.  She  had  all  her 
life  heard  her  father  speak  of  Radicals  as  of  a  class  of 
beings  quite  different  from  other  men.  Here  was  a  chance 
of  seeing  the  enemy.  Partly  because  she  had  nothing  else 
to  do,  partly  because  fate  or  destiny  led  her,  Doris  Hatton 
went  to  the  lecture. 

Looking  over  the  sea  of  faces,  changing,  brightening; 
or  darkening  under  the  fire  or  scorn  of  his  words,  Martin 
Ray  saw  one  that  lived  in  his  heart  for  evermore — a  pale, 
refined,  pretty  face,  with  great  earnest  eyes  and  a  tender 
mouth,  the  far,e  u£  a  girl  who  must  *3e  a  hero-worshipper  by 


A  BROKEN  ITEDDING  RING.  tj 

nature.  The  expression  of  it  was  rapt  and  attentive ;  the  eyes 
never  left  his  ;  the  face  paled,  the  lips  quivered,  the  eyes 
brightened,  and  the  face  flushed  as  he  changed  his  theme.  It 
was  like  playing  on  some  grand  harp  ;  touch  what  chords  he 
would,  the  response  was  certain.  After  awhile  the  girl's 
face  held  him  captive — he  found  himself  speaking  to  it, 
thinking  of  it,  watching  it  as  it  changed  and  paled.  It  was 
no  longer  himself  and  his  audience,  but  himself  and  this 
girl.  He  was  explaining  to  her  his  doctrine  ;  imbuing  her 
mind  with  his  ideas. 

Martin  Ray  surpassed  himself  this  evening ;  the  young 
face  inspired  him  ;  and,  although  among  his  listeners  were 
many  who  dissented  from  him,  who  believed  him  to  be  al- 
most criminally  wrong,  no  one  could  help  admiring  the 
earnest  discourse  of  "  the  Voice  of  the  People."  Those 
who  disagreed  with  him  regretted  that  so  much  talent 
should  be  abused ;  thos6  who  believed  in  him  gave  him  an 
ovation,  and  feasted  him  royally  in  the  old  town  of  Har- 
bury. 

All  night  Martin  Ray  dreamed  of  one  face,  one  pair  of 
eyes ;  and,  when  morning  dawned,  he  felt  that  the  common 
lot  of  humanity  was  his  at  last — he  loved  the  fair  unknown 
girl  with  a  love  that  naught  could  change. 

He  found  out  who  she  was  ;  she  was  Doris  Hatton,  the 
only  daughter  of  the  stanch  old  solicitor,  who  would  be 
his  greatest  political  enemy.  He  tried  to  get  an  introduc- 
tion at  the  house,  but  failed  completely.  Amos  Hatton 
would  not  receive  him.  Still  Martin  Ray  could  not  tear 
himself  from  the  girl ;  and  he  found  means  to  meet  her  and 
to  tell  her  how  well  he  loved  her. 

Doris  Hatton  was  always  inclined  to  take  a  romantic 
view  of  matters,  and  she  made  of  the  man  a  perfect  hero. 
All  che  ideas  and  theories  of  her  life  were  upset.  She  be- 
lieved this  man,  with  his  dark  eyes  and  fervid  thoughts,  to 
be  a  prophet  among  the  people.     At  his  bidding,  down 


8  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

went  the  altars  of  her  youth ;  loyalty,  obedience,  reverence 
for  superiors — all  vanished,  and  before  her  spread  the 
wide  plain  of  universal  equality.  She  loved  Martin  Ray 
with  perfect  love,  such  as  he  could  have  won  from  no  ether 
creature  living.  There  was  a  long  struggle  in  her  heart 
between  allegiance  to  her  father  and  this  swift,  s,veet,  new- 
born love ;  but,  as  this  new  teacher  told  hei",  the  old  land- 
marks were  swept  away,  they  existed  no  longer — no  father 
had  a  right  to  interfere  with  the  marriage  of  his  children. 
Through  the  sweet  month  of  May,  while  the  hawthorn 
bloomed  on  the  hedges  and  the  clover  grew,  he  contrived 
to  see  her  every  evening.  He  found  that  Harbury  was  a 
^ood  school.  He  wrote  to  the  committee  of  which  he  was 
the  head,  and  said  that  he  should  remain  there  while  he 
founded  a  society,  and  taught  the  people  what  were  work- 
men's rights  and  wrongs.  He  labored  honestly  enough, 
and  in  the  intervals  of  work  he  secretly  wooed  Doris — 
Doris,  who  wondered  how  this  man,  so  gifted,  so  different 
from  other  men,  came  to  love  her — Doris,  who  believed  in 
his  dreams  and  his  visions,  and  who  foresaw  a  time  when 
all  men  would  be  equal,  when  poverty  and  toil  would  be 
done  away  with,  and  universal  peace,  charity,  harmony,  and 
comfort  reign,  Martin  Ray,  her  hero,  was  to  bring  about 
this.  She  did  not  know  then  that  Martin  Ray  lived  in 
luxury  on  the  money  that  should  have  fed  the  children  of 
the  poor  with  bread.  She  had  to  learn  the  hardest  of  all 
iesboas— the  difference  between  precept  and  practice. 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 


CHAPTER  IL 

Amos  Hatton  stormed  and  raved  when  he  received  a 
letter  from  Martin  Ray,  asking  for  his  daughter's  hand. 
Nothing  could  exceed  his  wrath  and  indignation. 

*'  You  have  good  blood  in  your  veins,"  he  cried  to  the 
trembling  girl.  ,  '*  You  have  ancestors  who  fought  and  died 
— died,  mind  you — for  king  and  country,  and  you  ask  me 
if  you  may  marry  the  man  who  has  boasted  that,  if  no  one 
else  were  found  willing,  he  himself  would  behead  every 
sovereign  reigning.  He  said  that  in  his  last  lecture  at 
Manchester.  I  read  the  words,  and  wondered  at  the  pa 
tience  of  his  listeners  ;  and  you,  my  gentle,  well-born,  well- 
bred  Doris,  you  could  marry  him  1 " 

"  I  love  him — I  cannot  help  it,  papa.  You  misjudge 
him,"  she  answered,  despairingly.  "  I  must  love  him  ;  no 
one  understands  him  but  me." 

"  Must  love  him  !  "  repeated  Amos  Hatton.  "  Why, 
child,  if  you  could  but  see,  it  is  he,  and  such  as  he,  who 
are  the  greatest  enemies  of  the  people." 

"  You  do  not  know  him  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  He  is  a 
hero!" 

**  Hero !  Nonsense,  Doris  ;  heroes  do  not  live  on  the 
earnings  of  the  people.  Heroes  do  and  dare  ;  this  man 
incites  others  to  deeds  he  dares  not  do  himself.  I  should 
not  object  to  see  a  cart-load  of  such  heroes  sent  off  to  Van 
Diemen's  Land." 

"You  are  unjust,  papa,"  she  cried.  **  I  cannot  help  it ; 
I  love  him.  Oh,  if  you  could  but  see  how  it  is  !  He  wants 
me  to  be  his  wife  and  his  helpmate.  I  am  to  assist  him 
in  his  work.  O,  papa,  do  you  not  see  how  grand  is  the 
mission  he  offers  me  ?  I  am  to  be  to  the  women  of  Eng* 
land  what  he  is  to  the  men. 


,o  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

"  Heaven  forbid  ! "  exclaimed  Amos  Hatton.  "  I  would 
rather,  dearly  as  I  love  you,  see  you  in  your  grave.  I 
would  rather,"  he  added  passionately,  "  far  rather  see  you 
dead  than  the  wife  of  Martin  Ray. 

*'  And  I,"  she  replied,  raising  her  pale,  fair  face  to  him, 
**  would  rather  die  than  forsake  him  or  give  him  up  1 " 

*'  You  must  choose  between  us,  Doris,"  said  her  father, 
trying  to  speak  calmly.  "  If  you  marry  him,  I  will  never 
look  upon  your  face  again,  I  will  never  speak  to  you  or 
hear  your  voice  ;  you  will  be  no  child  of  mine ;  I  will  cast 
you  off  from  me." 

She  uttered  a  low  cry  of  pain  and  despair. 

"  I  wonder,"  she  said  "  if  ever  a  girl  had  to  choose  be- 
tween her  father  and  her  lover  before  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  replied ;  "  hundreds.  As  a  rule,  they  choose 
the  lover ;  but  you  ought  to  be  an  exception  Doris — ^you 
ought  not  to  be  of  the  common  run  of  girls.  I  expect 
more  from  you.  I  will  not  take  your  answer  yet ;  you  must 
think  it  over.  It  is  not  for  a  few  days  or  months  that  you  have 
to  decide,  but  for  life,  Doris.  My  dear,  try  to  disabuse 
yourself  of  the  notion  that  Martin  Ray  is  a  hero.  He  is 
nothing  of  the  kind.  He  is  a  paltry,  miserable  schemer, 
who  lives  upon  the  hard  earnings  of  the  people  he  mis- 
leads." 

"  You  cannot  understand  his  aims,  papa ! "  she  cried 
despairingly. 

"  Nor  do  I  wish  to  understand  them.  For  the  matter 
of  that,  you  do  not,  Doris ;  neither  does  he  himself.  I 
could  tell  you  what  his  aims  are  far  better  than  he  could. 
Think  well,  Doris,  before  you  decide.  Your  brother,  Arthur, 
if  I  judge  him  rightly,  will  agree  with  me.  You  will  give  us 
both  up  for  a  stranger,  a  Radical,  a  demagogue !  Bah !  I  have 
no  patience  to  speak  of  it !  " 

This  conversation  took  place  on  a  bright  June  morn- 
ing.   The  lawyer  had  written  a  brief,  contemptuous  reply 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  n 

to  Martin  Ray's  letter  requesting  his  daughter's  hand,  and 
then  sent  for  Doris  to  his  study.  He  had  fancied  it  would 
be  easy  to  influence  her.  He  believed  that  he  had  only  to 
352fuse,  and  she  would  forget  all  about  the  proposal.  He 
had  found  that  he  was  mistaken.  The  new  love  was 
stronger  than  the  old ;  hero-worship  had  a  greater  charm 
than  mere  obedience. 

Amos  Hatton  gave  his  daughter  a  few  days  to  decide 
upon  her  fate  in  life.  She  took  the  decision  into  her  own 
hands,  and  married  Martin  Ray — ^but  not  with  her  father's 
consent  or  blessing.  She  stole  from  the  house  one  sunny 
morning  never  to  enter  it  again.  She  kissed  her  father  on 
the  evening  before,  and  never  saw  his  face  or  heard  his  , 
voice  again.  She  married  the  man  whom  she  believed  to 
be  a  hero,  and  reaped  her  reward. 

There  was  some  little  surprise  and  consternation  in 
Harbury  when  it  was  known  that  Doris  Hatton  had  mar- 
ried the  young  demagogue,  whose  appearance  had  created 
a  social  whirlwind. 

"  What  could  she  see  in  him,  a  pretty,  sensible  girl  like 
Doris  ? "  people  asked  each  other. 

Few  understood  the  attraction  that  such  a  man  would 
have  for  a  romantic,  sentimental  girl.  Doris  thought  no 
lot  in  the  world  one-half  so  brilliant  as  hers. 

Amos  Hatton  was  a  heart-broken  man.  He  had  but 
two  children,  and  he  had  loved  them  with  the  deepest  pos- 
sible love.  His  son  Arthur,  a  handsome,  spirited  boy, 
eight  years  older  than  his  sister,  had  chosen  the  army  for 
a  profession  ;  and  quite  early  in  his  career  he  had  received 
an  excellent  military  appointment  in  India,  where  he  was 
rapidly  accumulating  fame  and  fortune.  Doris,  his  fair 
daughter,  was  the  very  pride  of  his  heart.  For  her  the 
old  lawyer  had  worked  and  toiled,  only  to  see  himself  for- 
saken for  a  man  whom  he  hated  and  despised.  His  heart 
was  bitter,  and  his  v/rath  was  great.     He  wrote  to  his  son 


12  A  BROKEN  WEDDINC-RING, 

in  India,  telling  him  what  had  happened,  and  bidding  him 
to  drive  all  memory  of  his  sister  from  him  for  ever.  Then 
Amos  Hatton  made  another  will,  in  which  he  left  all  his 
property  to  his  son ;  and  when  he  spoke  of  Doris  it  was 
as  of  one  dead.  Everything  that  had  ever  belonged  to 
her — piano,  books,  pictures,  clothes,  ornaments — was  sent 
after  her.  In  the  lawyer's  pleasant,  old-fashioned  house 
in  Harbury  not  a  trace  was  left  of  the  daughter  once  so 
beloved.     He  faded  quickly  after  that. 

The  three  years  that  followed  his  marriage  were  per- 
haps the  most  brilliant  of  Martin  Ray's  life.  The  worship 
and  adoration  of  his  young  wife  stimulated  him.  He  posi- 
tively began  to  believe  himself  what  she  imagined  him  to 
be.  He  began  to  think  of  himself  as  a  true  philanthro- 
pist, one  born  to  help  the  people — as  half  prophet,  half 
martyr — as  the  man  chosen  by  all  England  to  represent  the 
wants,  the  wrongs,  and  the  wishes  of  the  working-classes. 
He  began  to  imagine  that  the  divi'ne  mantle  of  genius 
had  fallen  on  him,  that  he  was  chosen  by  Providence  to  be 
a  leader  among  men,  and  he  was  stimulatad  to  greater, 
grander  action.  His  name  became  almost  a  power  in  the 
land. 

It  broke  the  old  lawyer's  heart  every  time  he  opened  \ 
newspaper  to  read  such  words  as  "  Riot  in  Liverpool," 
"  Seditious  Movement  in  Manchester,"  "  Growth  of  Dis- 
loyalty among  the  Lower  classes."  "  Disaffection  at  Hull ;  " 
then  at  times  he  would  see  a  paragraph  calling  attention 
to  Martin  Ray — to  his  fiery  eloquence,  to  his  wonderful  in- 
fluence over  the  masses.  The  old  lawyer  would  clinch  his 
hands  as  he  read.  This  stirrer-up  of  sedition,  this  man 
who  was  like  a  firebrand,  who  moved  as  a  scorching 
flame  over  the  fair,  green,  loyal  land,  this  man  who  openly 
preached  rebellion,  spoliation,  and  treason — this  man  had 
taken  his  bright  young  daughter  from  him,  and  left  him  in 


A  BPOKEN  WEDDINF-RING, 


13 


anguish  and  sorrow.  He  said  nothing;  but  slowly  and 
surely  it  broke  his  heart.  ^ 

One  morning  when  he  opened  his  newspaper  he  saw  a 
long  account  of  a  grand  political  meeting  in  London,  and 
the  event  of  the  day  was  the  speech  of  Martin  Ray.  No 
one  had  heard  its  equal  for  burning  eloquence,  for  Uto- 
pian ideas,  for  schemes  and  plans  which  were  utterly 
unfeasible.  It  was  a  speech  that  made  a  loyal  man  long  to 
see  the  one  who  gave  utterance  to  it  punished  for  it.  Amos 
Hatton  read  it.  Bitterness,  anger,  and  regret  filled  his 
heart ;  he  suffered  terribly.  His  emotion  brought  on  a 
fit,  and  when  his  clerk  went  into  the  office  he  found  him 
with  his  head  on  the  table.  The  doctor  who  was  hastily 
summoned  said  that  he  had  been  dead  for  an  hour. 

He  was  generally  regretted,  and  many  people  won- 
dered if  the  hapless  daughter  would  attend  her  father's 
funeral.     She  did  not.     Martin  Ray  would  not  allow  it. 

"  He  discarded  you  in  life,"  he  said,  "  you  shall  not 
return  to  him  in  death." 

The  news  of  his  decease  was  sent  to  India,  where  his 
son  Arthur  grieved  heartily  for  him.  According  to  his 
•will,  everything  that  he  possessed — house,  furniture,  pic- 
tures, plate,  business,  railway-shares  mining  shares — was 
sold,  and  the  money  was  sent  to  his  son. 

Arthur  took  it,  and  doubled  it  in  a  lew  years.  He 
thought  of  his  little  sister  Doris  with  something  like  re- 
morse, but  made  up  his  mind  that  when  he  returned  to 
England  he  would  seek  her  out,  and  at  least  share  the 
money  with  her. 

So  Amos  Hatton  was  buried  and  in  due  time  forgotten. 
Doris  mourned  long  and  deeply  for  him.  The  time  of  her 
disenchantment  had  not  yet  arrived.  She  still  believed  in 
her  husband  as  a  great  hero  and  an  excellent  man.  None 
of  her  illusions  had  been  dispelled,  and  her  happiness  had 
been  crowned  by  the  birth  of  two  little  daughters — beautV 


14  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING 

ful  children,  the  eldest  of  whom  she  had  named  Leah,  and 
the  second  Hettie.  She  was  wonderfully  happy,  this  sweet, 
gentle  Doris,  who  thought  no  husband  and  no  children 
equal  to  her  own.  Cut  oif  from  all  her  former  associations 
and  friends,  thrown  entirely  ou  her  husband  for  society,  no 
wonder  that  her  life  narrowed  and  her  world  became  cen- 
tered in  him. 

It  did  not  take  her  many  years  to  find  out  that  her  idol 
was  of  clay,  to  discover  that  he  was  no  prophet,  no  martyr, 
that  he  cared  little  for  the  consequences  of  his  seditious 
language  and  the  fire  he  put  into  the  hearts  of  the  people, 
provided  only  that  he  made  money  and  lived  in  comfort, 
that  his  eloquence  was  a  great  natural  gift  which  he  would 
just  as  cheerfully  have  turned  to  any  other  purpose,  that, 
stripped  of  all  the  ideal  qualities  she  had  ascribed  to  him, 
he  was  simply  a  shrewd  man  of  powerful  intellect,  rather 
more  egotistical  and  more  selfish  than  most  of  his  fellows. 

Some  wives  live  and  die  without  either  seeing  their 
husband's  faults  or  discerning  their  weaknesses.  It  was 
not  so  with  Doris.  The  fact  that  she  had  been  once 
blinded  seemed  to  make  her  more  clear-sighted  afterward. 
The  time  came  when  she  stood  appalled  at  what  she  had 
done — when  the  clap-trap  sentiments  that  she  had  once 
thought  so  heroic  and  grand  appeared  to  her  in  their  true 
light.  The  knowledge  brought  on  a  severe  illness,  and  she 
died,  leaving  her  two  little  daughters,  Leah  and  Hettie.  But, 
before  she  died,  she  wrote  a  letter  to  her  far-off  brother, 
who  had  never  seen  her  since  she  was  a  child,  owning  tO' 
him  that  her  marriage  had  been  a  fatal  mistake,  and  pray, 
ing  him  to  take  charge  of  her  children — to  save  them,  to 
rescue  them,  if  he  could,  from  a  fatal  and  unwholesome 
atmosphere,  and  do  the  best  he  could  for  them. 

He  was  Colonel  Hatton  when  he  received  the  letter. 
He  placed  it  with  his  papers,  intending  to  do  what  she 
asked,  and  in  the  whirl  of  his  busy  life  forgot  all  abouC'  itr 


I 

a  BROKEN  WEDDING-RiNQ  jg 


CHAPTER  III, 

No  two  girls  ever  had  a  stranger  education  and  a  more 
unequal  life  than  had  Leah  and  Hettie  Ray.  Sometimes 
they  found  themselves  in  the  midst  of  comfort  and  luxury, 
with  apartments  at  the  West-end  and  at  the  seaside,  ponies 
to  ride,  servants  to  wait  upon  them,  the  best  of  masters, 
for  "  accomplishments,"  and  of  governesses  for  ordinary 
teaching,  the  prettiest  dresses,  the  daintiest  food.  Then 
would  come  poverty,  squalor,  common  lodging-houses, 
common  clothing,  the  want  of  even  the  necessaries  of  life. 
There  was  one  thing  that  amid  ail  their  ups  and  downs 
was  never  forgotten — study.  No  matter  what  happened, 
they  always  preserved  their  books  and  never  missed  their 
lessons.  It  was  a  strange  life,  most  unsuited  for  young 
girls ;  but  it  was  the  only  one  they  had  ever  known.  Dur- 
ing their  mother's  lifetime  they  had  been  more  settled, 
they  had  lived  longer  in  one  place,  they  had  been  more 
uniformly  comfortable  ;  but  now  they  never  had  a  home 
for  more  than  three  months  together. 

Martin  Ray  was  very  kind,  loving,  and  indulgent  to 
them.  He  loved  only  three  creatures  during  the  whole 
course  of  his  life — his  wife  and  his  children.  He  shared 
all  he  had  with  them.  When  strikes  were  plentiful,  and 
the  masses  full  of  discontent ;  when  the  "  workman's 
penny"  rolled  in ;  when  men  invited  him  to  come  and 
make  their  discontents  greater  and  their  misery  more  un- 
endurable by  depicting  both  in  their  blackest  of  colors — » 
then  he  lived  in  luxury,  and  his  daughters  shared  it  with 
him.  Those  were  the  palmy  days  of  West-end  apartments 
and  first-class  music-masters.     Then  "the  Voice  of  the 


J  6  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

People"  lectured  in  good  broadcloth,  wearing  a  gold  watch 
and  chain ;  and  the  patient,  oppressed,  toiling  multitude 
gave  their  pence  cheerfully,  and  never  thought  of  the  incon- 
gruity. When  riot  and  anarchy  reigned,  when  sullen  hate 
grew  into  fierce  vengeance,  when  man  pursued  master  with 
dogged  desire  for  ruin — then  Martin  Ray  flourished,  and 
his  beautiful  little  daughters  wore  fine  clothes  and  ate 
good  food.  But,  when  the  loyal  good  sense  of  the  people 
prevailed,  when  submission  to  lawful  authority  reignedp 
when  the  fire  of  discontent  was  extinguished — then  dole- 
ful days  set  in  for  Martin.  For,  instead  of  paying  the  agi- 
tators v/ho  avoided  all  danger  while  they  led  others  into  it, 
the  workmen  kept  their  money. 

Martin  Ray  was  often  at  a  loss  to  know  where  his  din- 
ner or  his  children's  clothes  were  to  come  from.  Yet,  in 
spite  of  all  drawbacks,  the  girls  grew  up  beautiful  and  in- 
telligent. Wherever  Martin  Ray  went  he  took  them  with 
him ;  and  they  learned  much  that  was  useful,  with  much 
that  was  the  reverse.  They  had  no  friends ;  it  was  impos- 
sible to  form  even  acquaintances  living  as  they  did,  alter- 
nately in  luxury  and  poverty,  in  great  cities  and  remote 
villages.  The  men  with  whom  their  father  associated 
were  almost  unknown  to  them,  and  never  brought  wife  or 
sister  to  see  them.  They  were  lonely  and  friendless.  Then 
came  a  thne  of  great  trouble  of  which  they  fortunately 
knew  but  little.  When  Leah  was  eleven  and  Hettie  ten, 
Martin  Ray,  rendered  desperate  by  what  seemed  to  him 
long-continued  peace  and  order,  made  a  speech  which 
brought  him  under  the  iron  grip  of  the  law.  He  was  tried, 
and  sentenced  to  three  years  imprisonment ;  and,  in  spite 
of  all  that  friends  could  do,  of  petitions,  and  of  an  agita- 
tion which  spread  all  over  the  country,  the  sentence  was 
carried  out. 

Martin  Ray,  who  had  not  scrupled  to  use  the  most 
offensive  lan^ruage  with  regard  to  his  sovereign,  who  had 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING'RING.  17 

not  hesitated  to  incite  the  people  to  sedition  and  rebellion, 
found  his  punishment  in  the  ignominy  and  solitude  of  a 
prison. 

An  old  patron  took  pity  on  his  youthful  children.  Sir 
John  Falkner,  a  leading  Radical,  came  to  the  rescue.  He 
sent  the  children  to  a  boarding-school  kept  by  a  poor  rel- 
ative of  his  own — a  Miss  Fairfax — who  resided  at  Kev/. 
He  forbade  any  mention  of  their  father's  imprisonment ; 
and  the  children  were  told  that  he  was  away  from  home,  ab- 
sent on  special  business,  and  would  not  return  for  a  fe\^ 
years.  They  believed  it  implicitly.  They  had  some  kind 
of  idea  that  their  father  was  a  great  statesman,  born  to 
set  the  wrongs  of  the  world  right.  If  they  had  been  told 
that  he  had  gone  to  dethrone  the  Czar  of  all  the  Russi^s, 
they  would  have  believed  it  just  as  implicitly. 

They  spent  three  years  with  Miss  Fairfax — and  very 
happy  years  they  were. 

"Let  them  learn  everything."  Sir  John  had  said. 
"  The  chances  are  that  Martin  Ray  will  never  be  out  of 
mischief  again,  and  they  may  have  to  work  for  their  living. 
Make  them  clever  and  accomplished  women." 

Sir  John  spared  no  expense,  Miss  Fairfax  no  pains ; 
and  the  two  sisters  received  an  excellent  education. 

Martin  Ray  was  released  from  prison  when  Leah  was 
in  her  fifteenth  year  and  Hettie  still  almost  a  child  of 
fourteen.  He  was  not  grateful  to  Sir  John.  He  had  in- 
tended to  educate  the  girls  after  his  own  fashion.  Leah, 
who  was  gifted,  clever,  and  brilliant,  he  had  meant  to  bring 
out  as  a  lecturer ;  a  beautiful  young  woman  lecturing  on 
politics  would  be  a  novelty  that  would  pay  well.  As  for 
Hettie,  there  was  plenty  of  time  to  think  over  what  should 
be  done  with  her. 

,  Having  plans  of  his  own,  he  was  hardly  grateful  to  Sir 
John  for  having  sent  them  to  a  school  where  they  had  re- 
ceived a  solid,  sensible  education.    He  comforted  himself 


i8  A  BROKEl^  WEDDING-RING. 

by  the  thought  that  it  was  not  too  late  to  undo  the  effects 
of  it ;  he  had  time  yet  to  form  their  minds  as  he  would. 
He  came  out  of  prison  homeless,  friendless,  almost  penni- 
less, but  the  first  thing  he  did  was  to  take  his  daughters 
from  school.  He  had  secured  apartments  for  them  and  for 
himself  in  Camden  Town,  and  there  he  intended  to  devote 
his  time,  first  to  making  money,  and  then  to  the  education 
of  his  daughters.  They  never  heard  of  or  suspected  the 
secret  of  his  imprisonment ;  he  would  rather  have  died 
than  let  them  know  it.  He  received  their  homage  and  wor- 
ship much  as  he  had  received  their  mother's  before  them, 
as  a  right,  as  incense  they  ought  to  burn  before  him. 
When  they  talked,  in  their  simple  girlish  fashion,  of  how 
great  a  statesman  he  was,  of  what  great  things  he  would 
do,  he  was  flattered  and  pleased. 

Many  people  looked  coldly  upon  him  now  who  had 
once  seen  noble  qualities  in  him.  The  imprisonment  had 
been  against  him.  He  was  the  more  determined  that  his 
daughters  at  least  should  retain  their  veneration  for  him. 
People  began  to  look  upon  him  more  as  a  popular  agitator 
than  as  a  guide  or  a  leader.  He  was  soured,  imbittered, 
yet  compelled  by  the  force  of  the  law  to  be  more  careful 
and  reticent.  He  dared  not  again  advocate  the  murder  ot 
a  king;  and  the  fierce  sentiments  he  had  been  wont  to  ex- 
press openly  now  seethed  and  gathered  in  his  heart.  Sul- 
len, bitter,  vengeful  rage  had  possession  of  him.  How  he 
longed  to  crush  all  those  above  him,  the  queen  in  whose 
name  he  had  been  arrested,  the  jury  who  had  found 
him  guilty,  the  judge  who  had  sentenced  him,  the  gover- 
nor and  chaplain  of  the  jail  where  he  had  been  imprisoned, 
every  aristocrat  who  had  read  his  trial  and  smiled  at  his 
sentence  !  How  he  hated  them  !  How  he  clothed  in 
words  more  fierce  than  fire  his  black,  bitter  thoughts, 
though  he  did  not  dare  utter  them,  lest  the  law  should 
seize  him  again  and  render  him  mute  \ 


A  BROKEN'  WEDDING-RING.  19 

If  he  dared  not  speak  in  public,  in  private  he  atoned 
for  it.  When  the  little  group  of  men  met  in  the  dingy 
parlor  of  the  dingy  house  in  Camden  Town,  what  horrible 
treason  was  spoken,  what  vile,  murderous  plans  were  sug' 
gested  !  The  very  fact  that  he  could  carry  none  of  them 
out  imbittered  Martin  Ray  the  more.  He  went  into  prison 
mistaken,  yet  earnest ;  he  came  out  more  fiend  than  man. 
Before  that  event  there  had  been  something  human  in  his 
breast ;  nothing  lived  there  now  but  a  desire  for  revenge. 
He  looked  at  the  beautiful  face  of  Leah,  his  daughter.  If 
he  could  but  educate  her  to  his  way  of  thinking,  and  send 
her  out  into  the  world  like  a  firebrand — send  her  to  preach 
equality  and  fraternity — men  would  listen  to  her,  would 
follow  her  in  crowds ;  she  would  soon  make  a  name,  have 
an  influence.  He  remembered  how  many  women  had 
made  themselves  famous  in  the  same  fashion.  He  looked 
with  complacency  at  her  beauty.  If  those  dark  eyes  of 
hers  would  flash  fire,  if  that  lovely  mouth  would  give  utter- 
ance to  his  teachings,  men  would  hang  on  her  words  and 
believe  them.  His  beautiful  Leah  should  be  a  popular 
lecturer — not  on  women's  rights,  but  on  men's  freedom. 
He  had  the  best  masters  in  elocution  for  her,  he  spent 
hours  each  day  in  teaching  her. 

The  girl  herself  wondered  at  her  own  strange  training. 
There  were  times  when  she  half  feared,  half  suspected  that 
her  father  intended  her  for  the  stage,  a  profession  for 
which  she  had  no  inclination.  Although  she  had  the  most 
profound  faith  in  him,  it  was  strange  that  her  taste,  inter- 
ests, inclinations,  and  ideas  did  not  agree  with  his.  The 
blood  of  the  loyal  old  race  of  Hatton  ran  in  her  veins. 
She  was  a  Hatton,  without  one  of  the  characteristics  which 
distinguished  the  Rays.  While  Martin  Ray  made  a  hero 
of  Oliver  Cromwell,  and  worshipped  him  as  the  saviour  of 
his  country,  Leah  hated  the  name,  and  loved  the  memory 
Qi  the  handsome,  graceful,  graceless  Stuarts ;  while  Mar 


ao  A  BROKEHf  WEDDINC'RING. 

tin  saw  nothing  but  heroism  in  the  Paris  mob  who  dragged 
their  beautiful  queen  to  the  scaffold,  Leah  loved  and  ad- 
mired Marie  Antoinette.  So  through  all  the  pages  of  his- 
tory ;  and  yet  he  thought  to  make  her  a  denouncer  of 
royalty ! 

Leah  Ray  was  just  sixteen,  and  beautiful  as  the  open- 
ing bud  of  a  June  rose  ;  grace,  dignity,  and  passion  were 
marked  in  every  line  of  her  face.  The  brow  was  some- 
what low  and  broad,  full  of  ideality  and  thought ;  the  eyes 
were  dark,  the  eyebrows  straight.  It  was  a  face  perfect 
in  shape  and  harmony,  with  a  proud  but  sensitive  mouth 
— a  face  difficult  to  read.  The  lightness  and  brightness 
of  girlhood  were  not  on  it ;  it  was  slightly  mystical  and 
dreamy,  and  the  lustrous  eyes  had  a  shadow  in  them. 

The  noble  head,  the  graceful  figure  and  its  movements, 
the  mass  of  dark  waving  hair,  so  fine  and  abundant,  de- 
delighted  Martin  Ray.  The  more  beautiful  she  was,  the 
more  sure  was  she  to  influence  men.  He  never  thought 
whether  she  would  be  willing  to  devjte  her  young  life  to 
the  propagation  of  his  ideas,  whether  she  would  care  to 
give  up  all  the  allurements  and  pleasures  of  the  world  to 
dedicate  herself  to  the  people.  He  had  never  thought 
that  she  would  refuse  the  mission  he  had  appointed  for 
her.  The  man  who  preached  liberty  to  the  world  never 
dreamed  of  giving  it  to  his  own  daughter ;  he  who  openly 
taught  rebellion  against  all  authority  never  imagined  that 
his  daughter  would  disobey  him, 


A  sfioxMN  w&djmiyi^^RJ^(k  at 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Martin  Ray  was  living  in  one  of  the  crowded  streets 
of  Manchester.  The  north  was  better  suited  to  him  than 
the  south,  because  the  great  centers  of  industry  were  there. 
For  some  few  months  he  had  been  unfortunate.  Heaven 
had  blessed  the  bountiful  land  with  a  fair,  warm  summer ; 
the  harvest  was  plentiful,  the  fruit  ripened  in  rich  abun- 
dance ;  there  was  a  general  air  of  prosperity  ;  no  foreign 
war  caused  anxiety  and  agitation  at  home  ;  orders  from 
abroad  had  come  in  freely,  and  people  were  busy  at  work. 
There  was  no  time  for  considering  how  the  land  and 
money  of  the  rich  were  to  be  divided ;  men  did  hot  care 
to  be  drawn  from  their  work  by  agitation  of  any  kind  ;  and 
Martin  Ray  had  had  fewer  lectures  to  give.  The  contribu- 
tions from  different  committees  came  in  slowly.  He  was 
compelled  to  be  content  with  writing  pamphlets,  which, 
before  they  were  published,  underwent  so  much  revision 
as  to  make  them  pointless.  He  was  all  the  more  eager 
to  bring  Leah  forward. 

"The  girl  has  genius — she  has  fire  and  power,"  he  said 
to  himself.  "My  mantle  must  fall  upon  her.  Men  will  listen 
to  words  from  that  beautiful  mouth  that  they  will  not  hear 
from  mine." 

He  had  trained  her  splendidly.  She  was  well-read  and 
thoughtful.  She  was  a  girl  of  magnificent  talent,  full  of 
energy  and  the  restless  fire  that  proclaims  genius.  He 
had  never  told  her  until  now  what  his  intentions  were  with 
regard  to  her  ;  and  on  this  day  he  had  called  her  into  the 
miserable  little  room  he  dignified  by  the  name  of  study,  to 
communicate  his  plans  to  hci*. 


22  A  BROKEN'  WEDDTNG-RING, 

"  You  have  grown  very  beautiful,  Leah,"  he  said,  look- 
ing at  her  quite  calmly — "  very  beautiful  ;  and  it  is  time 
you  know  for.  what  purpose  Heaven  has  sent  you  that 
same  beauty." 

The  girl  smiled  and  blushed.  She  did  not  remember 
that  her  father  had  ever  used  such  words  to  her  before. 

Martin  Ray  went  on, — 

"  You  have  a  grand  mission  in  life,  Leah.  You  must 
not  be  as  other  girls  ;  you  must  not  think  that  dress, 
gayety,  enjoyment,  love,  and  marriage  are  the  end  and 
aim  of  your  existence.  You  have  a  far  more  important 
future  in  store  for  you." 

She  looked  up  at  him  in  wonder. 
"  I  did  not  know  that  I  had  any  mission,  father."  sha 
said,  quietly.     "  What  is  it  t  " 

"  The  greatest,  Leah,  that  ever  fell  to  a  woman.  1 
have  been  preaching  and  teaching  all  my  life.  I  havft 
given  up  everything  in  this  world  for  the  cause  of  the  peo- 
ple— all  my  hopes,  my  ambition.  I  have  served  them, 
lived  for  them,  spent  my  life  for  them  ;  and  now,  even  as 
from  the  prophet  of  old,  my  mantle  has  fallen — and  it  has 
fallen  upon  you." 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  she  replied.  **  What  am  I  to 
do?" 

"  I  will  tell  you,"  he  said.  "  You  must  take  my  place. 
I  can  preach  and  teach  no  longer  ;  you  must  do  it  for  me. 
You  are  young  and  beautiful ;  you  have  great  talent  ;  you 
have  a  clear,  vibrating,  sweet  voice  that  will  make  its  way 
to  the  very  hearts  of  men  ;  you  have  the  fire  that  belongs 
to  genius  ;  you  have  a  brilliant  imagination — indeed,  I 
may  say  that  you  have  every  requirement ;  and  a  lady 
orator  will  be  a  novelty  such  as  is  not  seen  every  day." 

"  What  do  you  want  me  to  be,  father  } "  she  asked 
slowly. 

"A  teacher  of  the  people,"  he  replied,  grandiloquently. 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  23 

**  How  can  I  teach  when  I  know  nothing  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  You  have  plenty  of  knowledge,  and  when  it  fails  I 
will  supply  what  you  may  need,"  he  said.  "  I  want  you  to 
set  forth  my  doctrines,  Leah,  to  spread  my  teachings.  I 
want  you  to  interpret  my  thoughts  and  ideas  to  the  world. 
They  will  live  after  me,  and  I  shall  be  famous  after  I  am 
dead." 

"  But,  father,"  she  remarked,  gravely,  "  you  have  spent 
your  life,  you  say,  in  making  known  your  belief  ;  and  if 
you,  so  wise,  so  learned,  so  good,  so  earnest,  have  not 
succeeded,  what  can  I  do  ?  A  girl,  young,  and  untrained, 
ignorant " 

He  interrupted  her  eagerly. 

*'  I  have  succeeded  in  a  meaisure,"  he  said.  "  But  one 
life  is  not  long  enough  for  the  work.  You  must  carry  it 
on  for  me.  The  grace  and  beauty  of  the  woman-teacher 
will  do  more  even  than  the  fame  and  skill  of  the  man. 
Leah,  try  to  appreciate,  to  understand,  the  grandeur  of  the 
mission  I  give  to  you.  If  I  had  called  you  here  this  morn- 
ing, and  had  told  you  that  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  had 
united  in  asking  you  to  be  their  queen,  you  would  be  dazed 
and  bewildered  with  delight — ^you  would  not  know  how  to 
wear  such  a  crown.  But  the  mission  I  have  given  you  makes 
you  a  greater  and  grander  woman  than  the  sovereignty 
of  the  whole  earth  could." 

"  In  what  way  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  You  have  to  teach  the  people — the  great  masses  who 
are  struggling  on  to  freedom  and  liberty." 

**  How  shall  I,  a  girl,  teach  the  people  ?  "  she  asked, 
gently,  "  I  should  think  that  white-haired  men  would  have 
little  patience  with  anything  that  I  could  say." 

*'  If  you  have  been  taught  what  to  say,  they  will  be- 
lieve it,"  said  Martin  Ray.  "  You  will  not  appear  before 
them  as  a  simple,  ignorant,  untrained  girl — in  that  case  I 
grant  you  would  be  little  worthy  of  credence — you  will 


84  A  BkOKEN  WEDDING-RTNV. 

come  before  the  world  as  the  one  woman  in  it  chosen  by 
Heaven  to  teach  the  people  the  blessings  of  equality  and 
liberty." 

"  But  Heaven  has  not  chosen  me,"  she  rejoined. 

**  It  has — through  me  ;  and  you  must  hear  the  voice  of 
Heaven  through  mine.  Yoa  must  stand  before  the  world 
a  woman  trained  to  teach,  a  woman  whose  beauty  and 
grace  have  been  especially  given  to  her  to  influence  the 
hearts  of  men  ;  a  woman  who  deliberately  gives  her  life 
to  the  well-being  of  others — a  woman  clad  in  ethereal 
armor,  delicate  of  tint,  full  of  poetry  and  eloquence,  the 
embodiment  of  the  Spirit  of  Liberty.'* 

A  light  shone  on  the  girl's  face. 

*»  And  do  you  think  I  could  do  all  this,  father  ?  " 

**  Think  !  I  am  sure  of  it  !  Did  not  Joan  of  Arc,  a 
girl  feeble  and  frail  as  you,  lead  vast  bodies  of  troops  on 
to  victory  ?  " 

"  Heaven  called  her,"  said  the  girl,  reverently. 

"  Heaven  calls  you,'*  he  declared  solemnly.  "  A  girl 
saved  the  French  crown  ;  a  girl-queen  saved  Hungary  from 
destruction  in  the  olden  days  ;  Judith  saved  her  country; 
Queen  Esther  her  nation.  It  seems  to  me  that  from  time 
to  time  women  are  raised  up  to  save  a  great  people  frora 
destruction.     You,  my  daughter,  are  one  of  these.'* 

She  grew  pale,  and  trembled  under  the  weight  of  his 
words.  He  took  her  hands  in  his,  and  looked  at  them 
lovingly.  If  he  were  a  false  pretender  himself,  he  did  not 
mean  her  to  be  one,  and  he  knew  that  nothing  succeeds  like 
truth  and  earnestness. 

"  These  are  little  hands,"  he  said,  **  to  hold  the  great, 
beating,  bleeding  heart  of  the  people — little  hands  to  plead 
and  implore,  to  raise  and  to  beat  down.  But  you  must  do 
it,  Leah.  I  see  the  grand  spirit  of  noble  women  sweeping 
over  you.  Be  a  modern  Judith,  and  slay  the  monster 
Eoyalty.*' 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  25 

She  shrunk  back,  pale  and  trembling,  at  these  words. 

*'  I  can  slay  nothing,"  she  said. 

But  he  did  not  seem  to  hear  her.  He  was  looking  at 
her,  trying  to  weigh  the  effect  of  her  graceful  young  loveli- 
ness on  the  hearts  of  men. 

"  Leah,"  he  said  slowly,  "  you  will  do  better  than  I 
havs  done.    You  will  make  a  fortune." 

A  flame,  almost  of  fire,  spread  over  her  beautiful  face. 

"  Make  a  what,  father — a  fortune  ?  I  thought  you  gave 
up  everything  to  the  people  you  taught — not  took  from 
them." 

"  Certainly,"  he  answered  hastily.  "  But  there  must 
be  funds  provided  for  the  organization  of  such  a  grand 
movement  as  ours.  Nothing  in  this  very  prosaic  world  can 
be  done  without  money,  Leah.  One  way  of  raising  money 
is  by  giving  these  lectures.  They  serve  two  purposes — 
they  find  the  means  to  enable  us  to  carry  on  the  war,  and 
they  teach  the  people." 

The  girl's  face  fell  and  the  light  died  out  of  it. 

"  I  would  rather  earn  money  in  some  other  way,"  she 
said. 

He  interrupted  her  eagerly, — 

"  The  earning  of  money  is  the  least  part  of  it,  Leah  ; 
do  you  not  see  ?  It  is  true  we  must  have  money,  but  the 
teaching  of  the  people  is  the  principal  thing." 

"  Tell  me  what  they  want  to  be  taught,"  she  requested. 

"  To  hate,  first  of  all,  all  existing  institutions.  They 
must  be  taught  to  hate  imperialism,  royalty,  the  aristocracy, 
and  the  gentry.  They  must  be  taught  to  hate  the  Sovereign, 
the  Legislature — ^government  in  every  shape  and  form,  ex- 
cept such  as  may  be  in  their  own  hands.  They  must  be 
taught  that  the  goods  of  this  fair  world  were  never  meant 
to  be  in  the  hands  of  a  few.  They  must  be  taught  that  it 
is  a  monstrous  injustice  that  one  man  should  own  fertile 
lands,  waving  woods,  broad,  deep  streams,  mines  of  untold 


26  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

wealth  underground,  while  another  dies  from  want  of 
bread.  They  must  be  taught,  Leah,  that  no  man  has  a 
right  to  make  slaves — to  torture,  to  kill,  to  bind  the  necks 
of  thousands  of  his  fellow  men  under  an  intolerable  yoke. 
The  earth  was  made  for  man — not  for  kings." 

"  But,"  she  said,  slowly,  "  men  must  be  ruled,  must  be 
governed.  It  seems  to  me  a  little  matter  whether  they  are 
ruled  by  kings  or  by  such  as  you.  I  know  little,  but  I  can* 
not  help  thinking  that  if  all  these  barriers  and  inequalities 
were  swept  away  by  a  mighty  wave  of  revolution,  the  self- 
same barriers  would  naturally  arise  again.  All  men  cannot 
be  equal — industry  must  outstrip  idleness,  genius  must 
succeed  better  than  folly,  wisdom  reign  over  ignorance. 
If  you  could  make  the  minds,  hearts,  characters,  and  con- 
sciences of  men  equal,  then  there  might  be  some  hope  of 
equality  in  circumstances." 

He  looked  at  her  angrily. 
"  Do  you  know,"  he  cried,  **  that  those  are  the  very 
arguments  of  my  enemies  "i     Who  has  taught  them  to 
you  ?  " 

"  No  one,"  she  replied.  **  No  one  has  ever  spoken  to 
me  of  such  things.     I  only  say  what  I  think." 

"  Then  you  must  speak  in  that  fashion  no  more,  Leah. 
You  must  strangle  your  own  ideas.  I  tell  you  that  they  are 
all  wrong.  You  must  apply  yourself  diligently  to  study 
what  I  may  call  my  side,  the  people's  side,  of  the  question. 
A  woman  like  you,  young  and  beautiful,  ought  to  sway  the 
masses;  you  must  give  your  life  to  it,  and  discard  all 
wea  kness,  all  nonsense,  about — the  other  side." 

She  looked  up  at  him  thoughtfully.  She  had  much  to 
say  :  she  did  not  in  her  own  simple,  girlish  mind  agree 
with  one  word  of  his  agument.  Why  should  she  stand  up 
to  tell  the  people  not  to  love  their  queen  ?  Only  last 
week  every  bell  in  the  city  had  chimed  in  honor  of  the 
queen's  birthday,  and,  listening  to  them,  her  eyes  had 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  27 

grown  dim  with  tears.  Who  could  say  one  word  against 
the  royal  and  noble  lady  whose  crown  was  the  purity  of 
her  life  ?  How  often  had  her  own  heart  beaten  when  she 
heard  the  loyal  voices  of  the  multitude  cry,  "  God  save  the 
Queen  !  "  And  she  was  to  teach  men  to  hate  this  noble 
lady  worthy  of  all  love. 

As  she  stood  silent,  Martin  Ray  watching  every  change 
in  her  face,  she  recalled  to  mind  what  she  had  heard  of 
two  lectures  given  lately.  One  was  to  a  large  audience  in 
a  crowded  city — a  lecture  on  Republicanism — when  the 
lecturer  spoke  in  such  tertns  of  the  queen  and  the  royal 
family  that  honest  men  were  angered.  When  he  had  con- 
cluded in  a  fiery  outburst  of  eloquence,  amidst  a  breathless 
silence  one  man  stood  up  and  cried  out.  "  God  save  the 
Queen  !  "  Instantly  the  cry  was  caught  up  by  hundreds 
of  voices  ;  a  reaction  set  in,  where  treason  and  disloyalty 
had  reigned  triumphant,  loyalty  conquered.  "  God  save 
the  Queen  !  "  resounded  through  the  vast  building  and 
through  the  streets  of  the  great  city.  The  other  lecture  that 
crossed  her  mind  was  one  given  in  a  pretty  quiet  midland 
town — given  by  a  lady  who  was  an  atheist,  and  whose 
mission  it  was  to  preach  against  the  Great  Creator  who 
had  given  her  life.  She  used  the  most  brilliant  and  spe- 
cious arguments  ;  she  brought  forward  some  ideas  that 
appeared  irrefutable  ;  she  concluded  her  lecture  in  a  deep, 
dread  silence.  The  hearts  of  those  who  had  listened  were 
heavy  and  sad.  Suddenly  in  their  midst  rose  up  an  old 
white-haired  man.  He  stood  bare-headed,  with  his  face 
slightly  raised.  "  I  believe  in  God,  the  Mighty,  the 
Merciful,"  he  said.  And  those  who  were  present  went  home 
that  night  with  firmer  faith  and  clearer  hope.  She  thought 
of  these  two  events,  and  her  face  was  full  of  doubt. 

"  I  have  no  more  time  just  now,"  said  Martin  Ray. 
•*  There  is  a  meeting  of  the  delegates  at  three,  and  I  must 


^  4  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

be  present.    I  will  find  leisure  to  teach  you,  Leah  ;  and 
believe  me,  a  grand  mission  lies  before  you." 

But  on  the  face  of  the  girl  there  was  no  light  of 
enthusiasm — nothing  but  XXk^  sUadow  Qi  doubt  and  of 
lear. 


d  SROKEN  WBDDING^RINQ^  29 


CHAPTER  V. 

A  GLOOMY  house  in  a  gloomy  street,  quite  unfitted  for 
the  habitation  of  two  beautiful  and  brilliant  girls.  Every 
one  who  knows  Manchester  knows  Great  Divan  street.  It 
is  thoroughly  respectable,  quiet,  and  dull.  "  The  Voice  of 
the  People  "  made  his  abode  here,  partly  because  the  house 
suited  his  means,  and  partly  because  it  was  near  the  chief 
places  where  his  business  lay.  The  residence  he  had 
chosen  was  certainly  the  dullest  in  the  street.  The  rooms 
were  small  and  dark ;  there  was  not  even  a  glimpse  of 
green  at  the  back ;  and  in  the  front  was  a  row  of  houses 
on  which  the  sun  seldom  shone.  Martin  Ray  did  not 
suffer  much,  as  he  was  generally  from  home ;  but  to  his 
daughters  it  was  untold  misery.  They  knew  and  under- 
stood little  of  their  father's  politics  ;  they  thought  he  was 
agreat  thinker  of  very  unequal  fortune.  They  had  enjoyed 
many  of  the  luxuries  of  life  —  now  they  had  to  bear 
privations  ;  but  that  time  would  pass,  and  brighter  days 
dawn.  There  was  little  furniture  in  the  house.  Martin 
Ray's  study  and  bedroom  were  the  two  most  luxurious 
apartments.  There  was  a  piano  in  the  little  parlor — 
Martin  never  allowed  his  daughters  to  be  without  that — 
and  here,  at  the  close  of  a  bright  May  day,  the  two  girls 
sat  quite  alone. 

There  was  not  much  sunlight  in  the  room,  but  what 
little  there  was  showed  the  faded  carpet,  the  shabby  fur- 
niture, and  the  beautiful  faces  of  the  girls.  Leah,  whom 
her  father  in  his  selfishness  had  designed  for  so  grand  a 
mission,  whose  life  was  to  be  sacrificed  to  him,  was  just 
sixteen ;  Hettie,  one  year  younger.    Yet  there  was  the 


30  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

greatest  difference  between  them.  Leah  was  beautiful, 
graceful  in  the  very  springtide  of  life,  with  the  promise  of 
a  magnificent  womanhood.  Hettie,  though  only  one  year 
younger,  seemed  still  a  child.  She  was  tall,  slight,  and  un- 
formed. Her  face  was  beautiful,  too,  and  gave  promise  of 
even  greater  loveliness  ;  but,  although  like  in  feature,  it 
differed  greatly  in  expression  from  that  of  Leah.  Hettie  had 
hair  of  pale  bright  gold,  that  was  like  an  aureole  round  her 
head  ;  she  had  eyes  blue  as  heaven,  large,  bright,  and 
lustrous,  with  hidden  depths  seen  by  no  one  yet.  The 
chief  expression  of  Leah's  face  was  of  pride  ;  it  did 
not  lack  beauty,  but  it  certainly  lacked  tenderness ;  while 
the  chief  loveliness  of  Hettie's  face  lay  in  its  softness. 

The  one  year  made  a  wonderful  difference  between 
these  two  girls.  No  one  would  have  treated  Leah  as  a 
child  or  Hettie  as  a  woman.  The  two  sisters  had  the 
deepest  love  for  each  other.  They  had  preserved  two 
traditions  in  their  lives  untouched  ;  one  was  loving,  sorrow- 
ful memory  of  their  mother — the  other,  belief  in  their 
father.  Of  late  this  latter  trait  was  just  a  little  less 
observable.  On  one  or  two  occasions  their  faith  had  been 
somewhat  tried ;  but  they  had  been  loyal — they  had  said 
no  word  to  each  other. 

On  this  May  evening  they  had  been  trying  to  amuse 
themselves.  The  house  was  dull,  but  they  could  not  leave 
it  ;  the  lovely  sunshine  lay  all  around,  but  they  could  not 
go  out  to  see  it.  They  had  been  singing,  but  their  fresh 
young  voice*  had  died  away,  and  over  them  crept  the  weari- 
ness of  restless  discontent. 

"  O,  Leah,  how  dull  this  it ! "  cried  Hettie,  at  last. 
"  My  father  said  yesterday  that  we  ought  to  be  proud  to 
be  the  daughters  of  a  patriot.  If  all  patriots'  daughters 
are  dull  as  we  are,  I  am  sorry  for  them." 

Leah  went  to  her,  and  threw  her  arms  round  her  sister's 
neck  ;  she  laid  her  dark  head  against  the  golden  one,  and 


A  BROKTEN  WEDDING-RING. 


3x 


the  two  young  faces  close  together  formed  a  pretty  picture^ 

"  It  is  dull,  Hettie,"  she  said,  "  but  I  am  not  dull.  I 
am  trembling  with  excitement.  I  could  not  decide  whether 
I  should  tell  you  or  not.  They  say  are  only  a  child, 
Hettie,  but  in  your  sweet,  gentle  fashion,  you  are  more 
of  a  woman  than  I  am." 

Hettie  laughed. 

*'  Why  do  you  say  that,  Leah .?  " 

"  It  is  quite  true.  You  aire  not  so  impulsive  as  I  am, 
Hettie  ;  you  are  not  so  proud.  I  am  proud,  and  I  lack  that 
gentle  consideration  for  others  which  you  never  lose.  You 
are  wiser  and  more  thoughtful  than  I  am." 

"  I  am  not  so  beautiful  or  so  noble,  Leah,"  she  cried. 
"  What  is  it  you  have  been  thinking  about  telling  me  ?  " 

"  All  that  my  father  said  to  me.  I  am  so  miserable 
about  it.  Hettie,  when  I  look  into  my  own  heart,  I  am  not 
quite  sure  if  I  believe  all  that  he  teaches  ;  "  and  the  two 
sisters  exchanged  a  fearful,  timid  glance.  It  was  high 
treason,  indeed,  not  to  believe  in  him. 

Hettie  made  no  answer  ;  she  did  not  know  or  under- 
stand exactly  what  her  father  did  teach.     Leah  went  on, — 

"  God  made  the  world,  and  He  must  have  framed  the 
laws  for  it.  It  seems  hard  to  believe  that  it  has  gone 
wrong  all  the  time,  until  our  father  began  to  set  it  right." 

"  It  does  seem  strange,"  agreed  Hettie. 

"  And  now,"  continued  Leah, "  he  says  that  I  must 
learn  to  take  his  place.  I  am  such  a  young  girl,  and  I 
know  so  little.  He  has  frightened  me.  He  wants  me  to  be 
a  modern  Judith,  he  says  ;  he  wants  me  to  stand  apart  from 
the  world  of  women.  He  wants  to  teach  me  to  lecture — 
think  of  it,  Hettie,  to  lecture.  It  seems  to  me  that  I  know 
less  than  the  birds  of  the  air.  I  wish,"  she  added,  with  a 
deep  sigh,  "  that  I  had  the  freedom  of  a  bird.  I  should 
fly  away,  Hettie." 

"Papa  wants  you  to  lecture,  Leah,"  said  Hettie— 


32  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

"what  a  strange  thing!  But  there  are  woman  doctors 
preachers,  and  lecturers  these  days." 

"  But  I  am  only  a  girl  of  sixteen  1 "  exclaimed  Leah. 

"  He  will  not  want  you  to  begin  yet ;  he  means  far  on 
in  the  future,  when  you  grow  old  and  wise  Leah." 

**  No ;  he  means  now,  at  once,  in  a  year's  time,  while 
I  am  young,  and,  Hettie,  he  says  I  must  give  my  life  to  it 
— my  whole  life,"  and  the  beautiful  face  dropped  wearily 
on  the  loving  one  beneath. 

The  blue  eyes  opened  widely,  appalled  at  this  idea. 

"  What  would  you  like  best  to  do  with  your  life  Leah  ?  " 
asked  Hettie.     "  Tell  me  ;  I  should  like  to  know." 

"  I  should  like,"  said  the  girl,  with  a  gleam  of  passion 
in  her  dark  eyes,  "  first  of  all,  to  love  some  one  with  all  my 
heart — some  one,  of  course,  who  would  love  me.  I  wish 
for  many  things,  but  love  is  first,  greatest,  and  best.  Then 
I  should  like  to  be  rich — to  have  a  beautiful  country-house, 
with  roses  growing  all  around  it  I  I  love  roses  so  much. 
I  should  like  beautiful  dresses,  jewels,  horses  and  ser- 
vants  " 

"Just  in  fact,  what  other  girls  desire,"  interrupted 
Hettie.  "  You  are  like  all  the  rest ;  you  do  not  want  a 
mission." 

"No,  I  do  not,  indeed.  I  think  I  should  dislike 
what  my  father  calls  a  mission.  I  do  not  understand  him ; 
why  do  he  and  all  his  friends  hate  rich  and  noble  people 
so  much  t " 

"  Perhaps,"  replied  Hettie,  wisely,  "  because  they  have 
neither  rank  nor  money  themselves  ; "  and  then  she  looked 
somewhat  shocked  at  her  own  words  and  hastened  to 
cover  them.  **  Even,  if  we  cannot  understand  what  my 
father  teaches,  we  know  it  must  be  right,  Leah.  There 
must  be  reasons,  and  good  ones,  too,  for  his  hatred." 

"  But  why  should  he  want  a  republic  instead  of  our 
present  constitution?"   asked  Leah.    "Why  should  he 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 


33 


want  to  take  all  the  large  estates  from  the  men  who  own 
them,  and  divide  them  among  others  ?  Poor  as  our  furni 
ture  is,  would  he  like  to  divide  that  among  men  poorer 
than  himself  ?     I  know  he  would  not." 

"  He  is  a  patriot,  Leah,"  urged  the  younger  sister,  to 
whom  Leah's  remarks  sounded  like  treason. 

"  Yes,  I  know  the  dictionary  says  that  a  patriot  is  a 
man  who  loves  and  serves  his  country.  But  one  who  loves 
his  country  would  surely  never  care  to  see  it  destroyed  by 
civil  war ;  and  what  but  civil  war  would  ensue  if  they  tried 
to  put  aside  our  present  form  of  government  and  set  up  a 
republic  ?     My  instincts  are  all  against  it,  Hettie." 

"  My  father  must  know  best,"  said  the  younger  girl, 
"  Perhaps  kings  and  queens  and  rich  people  do  great 
wrongs  of  which  we  know  nothing ;  and,  if  that  be  the  case, 
my  father  is  right  to  preach  against  them.  He  must  be 
right,"  she  added,  after  musing  for  some  short  time,  "  he 
is  so  wise  and  good." 

Tears  stood  in  Leah's  dark  eyes. 

*'  I  know  what  he  wants,  Hettie,"  she  said ;  "  he  wants  a 
daughter  like  one  of  those  girls  of  whom  you  read  in  novels 
— '  an  inspired  sibyl.'  Now  I  do  not  feel  at  all  like  a 
sibyl.  I  cannot  understand  talking  of  people  in  the  mass," 
she  continued ;  "  to  me  the  people  are  all  individuals,  and 
each  one  can  best  teach  and  train  himself.  My  father 
says  that  he  has  given  his  life  to  the  people.  Who  are 
they  t  What  have  they  done  for  him  ?  He  says  I  must 
give  my  lif?  to  them.  What  are  they  to  me — the  people  ? 
Why  should  not  I  have  my  life  to  do  as  I  like  with,  Hettie  ? 
What  are  the  people  to  me  ?  " 

"  You  would  like  to  love  some  one  very  much,"  said 
Hettie,  "and  to  marry — ^to  be  rich  and  fashionable — would 
you  not,  Leah  ?  " 

The  beautiful  face  brightened. 

"  Yes,  that  I  should.    That  is  a  mission  far  more  to 


34  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

my  taste  than  the  one  my  father  gives  me.  I  wonder,"  she 
continued  thoughtfully,  "  if  it  is  possible  to  be  born  with 
what  my  father  calls  conservative  instincts.  If  so,  I  have 
them.  All  my  ideas  and  instincts  and  feelings  are  opposed 
to  my  father's.  I  have  never  said  that  much,  before,  Het- 
tie,  and  I  am  half  frightened  at  saying  it  now.  If  I  am  to 
have  a  mission  at  all,  or  to  learn  to  lecture,  it  will  not  be 
as  he  says,  but  quite  in  another  fashion.  Supposing  that  I 
were  old  enough  and  wise  enough  to  teach  others,  I  would 
teach  them,  while  they  resented  tyranny,  to  love  peace, 
order,  content ;  to  learn  obedience  to  proper  authority,  not 
rebellion  and  discontent.  What  would  my  father  say  to 
that,  Hettie  ? " 

The  blue  eyes  sought  the  dark  ones. 

"  Why,  Leah,"  cried  the  child,  "  how  is  it  that  life  has 
suddenly  changed  into  a  wonderful  puzzle }  I  never  thought 
of  these  things  before." 

*'  Nor  did  I,"  said  Leah.  "  But  it  seems  to  me  that 
for  the  future  I  shall  think  of  nothing  else." 

The  sun  set  and  the  moon  rose  over  two  bewildered 
heads  that  turned  restlessly  even  in  sleep, 


4  BHQKEN  WEDDiNG*RINQ^  ^ 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Even  when  Leah  Ray  was  not  under  the  spell  of  her 
father's  teaching  she  had  the  same  shrinking,  the  same 
feehng  of  horror  that  a  sensitive  child  has  of  the  darkness. 
Her  father  and  his  friends  spoke  of  history  ;  they  talked  of 
the  rights  of  the  people ;  they  approved  of  secret  societies : 
they  saw  nothing  wrong  in  Fenianism,  in  Nihilism,  or  any 
c^her  "  ism  "  which  displaced  authority  and  gave  power  in- 
to the  hands  of  the  mob.  Martin  Ray  had  spoken  of  his 
plans  to  his  confederates.  They  all  agreed  with  him. 
It  was  a  novelty  to  have  a  beautiful  young  girl  to  lecture 
for  them,  one  on  whose  lips  the  very  honey  of  eloquence 
lingered.  She  was  brought  into  her  father's  study  where 
several  of  his  most  intimate  friends  assembled.  It  was  a 
trying  ordeal  for  so  young  a  girl ;  one  less  sensible  would 
have  been  flattered  into  compliance  with  their  wishes. 
Leah  shuddered  with  dread.  They  were  grim-looking 
men,  with  determined  faces  ;  in  many  instances  with  them 
"  history  "  meant  murder,  and  the  "  rights  of  the  people  " 
assassination.  She  could  not  understand  half  that  passed. 
Her  father's  friends  flattered  her,  and  told  her  that  she 
would  have  greater  and  wider  influence  than  a  queen,  and 
that  she  would  live  in  the  hearts  and  memories  of  the  peo- 
ple forever.  But  she  was  frightened.  She  had  heard 
strange  doctrines  and  strange  words. 

More  than  one  man  cried  "  Hush  !  "  when  he  saw  the 
girl's  pale  face  ;  but  Martin  Ray  said  ^hat  no  one  need 
fear  his  daughter — she  was  one  of  them,  and  would  be 
stanch  until  death.  So  they  spoke  freely  before  her,  and 
she,  pale,  proud,  and  reserved,  wondered  that  they  did  not 


36  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

see  the  difference  between  what  she  was  and  what  they 
wanted. 

There  was  no  nobility  in  their  aims,  no  loftiness  of 
purpose.  The  girl's  heart  grew  sick  and  faint  as  she  lis- 
tened, but  her  pale  proud  face  gave  no  indication  of  her 
thoughts. 

"  I  may  soon  die,"  said  Martin  Ray,  as  he  laid  his 
hand  upon  his  daughter's  beautiful  head,  "  and  I  have  spent 
my  life  for  the  people  ;  but  my  spirit  will  live  in  this  girl, 
who  has  received  my  doctrines  from  my  own  lips,  and  who 
will  add  the  splendor  of  her  own  genius  to  my  experience. 
I  may  live  however,  to  see  my  daughter  the  people's  idol 
— the  people's  queen." 

They  asked  Leah  to  give  them  a  specimen  of  her 
powers.  She  turned  to  her  father,  with  an  appealing  look 
which  he  understood.  It  would  have  been  easier  for  her 
to  die  than  to  speak  before  those  stern,  cold  men. 

"  Not  yet,"  said  Martin  Ray,  looking  proudly  at  his 
daughter.  "Considering  the  magnitude  of  the  interests 
that  will  be  committed  to  her  charge,  it  is  only  right  that 
you  should  hear  her  before  she  makes  her  first  appearance 
in  public.  But  she  has  much  to  learn  before  then.  She  is 
not  ready  yet." 

Leah  Ray  had  plenty  of  spirit — she  mherited  it  from 
the  Hattons  ;  but  with  all  her  courage,  she  dared  not  tell 
her  father  what  was  in  her  heart.  She  had  been  indiffer- 
ent at  first  as  to  what  she  had  to  do  ;  now  she  hated  and 
loathed  it. 

When,  after  midnight,  her  father  gave  her  permission 
to  leave  the  conclave,  she  went  to  Hettie  to  seek  comfort 
and  consolation. 

"  I  can  never  attempt  it,  my  darling  I  "  she  sobbed. 
"  O,  Hettie  !  what  must  I  do  ?  I  hate  it  all  so.  What 
shall  I  do  ?    My  father  will  be  so  angry  when  I  tell  him.' 

Her  sister  looked  at  her  in  helpless  compassion. 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  37 

«*  It  seems  almost  a  pity  that  you  are  so  beautiful  and  so 
gifted,  Leah,"  said  Hettie. 

Leah  stood  by  the  window,  her  face  raised  to  the  sky, 
where  the  golden  stars  were  shining. 

"  Do  you  remember  Hettie,"  she  said,  "  how  the  three 
Hebrews  prayed  in  the  fiery  furnace.  I  am  in  a  furnace 
of  fire  now.  I  stand  between  my  own  hatred  of  what  my 
father  wants  me  to  do  and  my  father's  anger  if  I  do  not  do  it. 
Who  will  deliver  me  from  it  ?  Who  will  take  pity  on  me  ? 
I  am  so  helpless.  I  have  no  friend.  O,  Hettie,  Hettie  ! 
I  feel  I  must  pray  to  Heaven  to  save  me  from  this  furnace 
of  fire ! " 

"  My  darling  Leah,  do  not  cry,"  returned  Hettie.  "  If 
you  tell  our  father  that  you  do  not  like  the  plans  that  he 
has  laid  down  for  you,  he  will  not  force  you  to  follow 
them." 

But  Leah  had  had  a  revelation  of  her  father's  charac- 
acter  that  evening  which  had  opened  her  eyes.  She  knew 
that  he  would  not  spare  her — that  he  would  force  her  to  com- 
ply with  his  wishes ;  and,  if  she  refused,  she  had  a  dim 
idea  that  he  would  make  her  suffer. 

"  I  wish  mamma  had  lived,  Hettie,"  she  said;  '*  she  would 
have  taken  care  of  us.  She  would  never  have  allowed 
father  to  force  me  to  do  anything  against  my  will.  We 
should  have  been  like  other  girls  then,  which  we  are  not 
now." 

**  Still,  Leah,  we  are  the  daughters  of  a  patriot,"  re- 
marked loyal  Hettie  ;  and  Leah  turmed  away  with  a  hope- 
less sickness  at  her  heart. 

No  sleep  came  to  her  that  night.  She  hated  the  men 
whom  she  had  seen,  and  who  persisted  in  flattering  and 
praising  her.  She  detested  their  opinions  and  political  feel- 
ings ;  she  loathed  the  idea  of  having  to  meet  them  again 
and  again.    If  some  one  would  but  rescue  her  1    If  some* 


38  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING* 

thing  would  only  happen  to  save  her  from  the  terrible  fu- 
ture that  her  father  had  mapped  out  for  her  !  " 

She  looked  the  next  morning  from  the  window  of  her 
bedroom.  There  were  people  hurrying  to  and  fro ;  the  tall 
chimneys  were  smoking,  showing  that  work  was  going  on . 
there  was  the  distant  murmur  and  roar  of  the  city ;  she  saw 
men  and  women  with  eager  faces,  who  were  evidently  bent 
on  business.  "  The  people  !  "  And  what  had  she  to  do 
with  them  ?  She  did  not  even  belong  to  them.  What  had 
she  in  common  with  those  tired-looking,  dirty,  poorly-dressed 
men  and  women  who  crowded  the  streets  ?  Nothing.  Why 
then  give  her  life  to  them  or  for  them  ?  She  must  tell  her 
father  that  all  his  plans  for  her  were  more  than  vain.  He 
would  be  at  home  in  the  afternoon ;  Hettie  would  be  present, 
and  then  she  could  speak  to  him  plainly  on  the  subject. 

The  af^^ernoon  was  close,  heavy,  and  dull.  Out  of 
doors  the  atmosphere  was  oppressive — in  the  house  there 
was  warmth  without  brightness ;  and  Leah  Ray,  with  a 
dull  pain  at  her  heart,  stood  awaiting  her  father's  return — 
waiting  to  tell  him  that  she  never  could  and  never  would 
become  what  he  wished  her  to  be. 

"  He  will  be  terribly  angry,"  she  said  to  Hettie  ;  "  but 
I  had  better  die  at  once  than  live  on  in  agony,  as  I  should 
do,  Hettie,  were  I  to  accede  to  his  plans.  While  I  talk  to 
him,  pray  that  I  may  be  delivered  from  this  furnace  of 
fire." 

It  was  late  when  Martin  Ray  returned.  He  was  not  in 
the  most  amiable  of  moods ;  something  had  gone  wrong 
among  the  delegates,  and  he  was  ruffled  and  angered. 

"  Give  me  my  dinner,"  he  said,  brusquely ;  and  the  two 
girls  hastened  to  serve  him.  *'  Mind,"  he  added,  half 
fiercely,  to  his  eldest  daughter — "  mind  that  you  study  well 
to-day.  I  must  give  you  a  lesson  this  evening ;  last  night 
you  did  not  seem  so  willing  as  I  should  like  to  have  seen 


A  BROKEN-  WEDDING'RING.  ^g 

you.  Understand  that  there  is  to  be  no  shirking;  you 
must  do  what  I  wish." 

"  Leah,"  said  Hettie,  trembling,  "  do  not  speak  to  him 
to-night — he  is  angry,  you  see  ;  wait  until  to-morrow." 

*'  No;  I  could  not  rest  another  hour,"  her  sister  replied. 

She  might  not  be  a  modern  Judith,  but  she  was  resolute, 
firm  and  determined. 

"  The  Voice  of  the  People  "  had  dined  well ;  he  had 
taken  up  the  only  consolation  that  never  failed  him — his 
newspaper ;  and  Leah,  looking  paler  and  more  determined 
than  she  had  ever  looked  before,  went  up  to  him. 

At  that  very  moment  a  carriage  rolled  up  the  street  and 
stopped  at  their  door ;  then  came  a  loud  peal  at  the  bell, 
which  the  little  drudge  of  the  house,  with  a  very  black  face 
and  hands,  hastened  to  answer.  They  heard  a  loud,  per- 
emptory voice  asking  if  Martin  Ray  was  at  home,  and  the 
girl's  answer,  "  Yes." 

"  Give  him  this,"  said  the  same  voice,  "  and  tell  him 
that  I  am  waiting — waiting,  you  understand." 

*'  Who  can  this  be  ?  "  observed  Martin  with  a  wonder- 
ing look  at  his  daughters.  The  little  maid  solved  the  mys- 
tery by  appearing  with  a  card. 

"  He  says  he's  waiting,"  she  half  whispered,  with  a  nod 
of  her  head  towards  the  door. 

Martin  Ray  took  up  the  card  and  read  :  "  General  Sir 
Arthur  Hatton,  K.  C.  B." 

"  Sir  Arthur  Hatton  ?  "  he  murmured.  "  I  know  no 
such  name.  Hatton  ? "  Then  memory  suddenly  awaken- 
ed. Was  not  Doris  Hatton  the  name  of  the  only  woman 
he  had  ever  loved,  and  who  had  died  because  he  was  not 
what  she  believed  him  to  be  ?  Sir  Arthur  Hatton  ?  It  must 
be  some  relative  of  hers,  and  of  the  proud  father  who  had 
died  without  forgiving  his  only  daughter  for  marrying  him. 
Then  he  remembered  that  his  wife  had  spoken  more  than 
once  of  a  soldier-brother  away  in  India.    "  Ask  the  gentle- 


40  ^  BROKEN'  WEDDmC-RTNG, 

man  to  walk  in,"  he  said  to  the  servant ;  and  the  next  mitt* 
ute  General  Sir  Arthur  Hatton  was  ushered  in. 

At  sight  of  the  two  beautiful  faces  he  uncovered  his 
head  and  bowed  low. 

"  Are  you  Martin  Ray,  demagogue  and  agitator  ? "  he 
asked. 

"  I  am  Martin  Ray,"  replied  the  master  of  the  house. 

"  I  am  General  Hatton,  the  brother  of  the  unfortunate 
Jady  whom  you  stole  from  her  home." 

"  What  is  your  business  with  me  ? "  asked  Martin  Ray. 

"  I  want  the  satisfaction,  first  of  all,  of  speaking  my 
mind  to  you  ;  and,  secondly,  I  wish  to  know  what  has  be- 
come of  my  sister's  children." 

Hatred  flamed  in  both  faces  as  the  two  men  looked  at 
each  other ;  hatred  flashed  from  their  eyes. 

**  I  have  not  asked  you  to  my  house,"  said  Martin  Ray; 
•'  nor  do  I  wish  to  see  you  here,  State  your  business 
quickly,  and  begone.** 


4  BROKEN  WEDDIN(r'JiW(i% 


CHAPTER  VTI. 

It  was  an  impressive  scene.  The  fine,  tall  figure  of 
the  officer  was  drawn  to  its  full  height,  his  face  was  ex- 
pressive of  intense  scorn.  Martin  Ray  seemed  to  shrink 
into  insignificance  before  him,  and  yet  he  faced  him  with 
a  desperate  kind  of  courage.  The  two  girls  had  drawn 
close  together,  as  though  seeking  protection  from  each 
other.  The  wan  sunlight  lay  in  yellow  bars  along  the 
floor. 

"  I  have  not  come  hither,"  said  General  Hatton,  "  to 
bandy  words  with  you — to  seek  a  quarrel  with  you.  You  are 
one  with  whom  no  gentleman  could  quarrel.  I  have  a  mes- 
sage from  the  dead,  and  I  wish  to  deliver  it.  Show  me  my 
sister's  children." 

"  They  are  here,"  said  Martin  Ray,  not  without  a  cer* 
tain  amount  of  dignity — **the  good  children  of  a  good 
mother." 

General  Hatton  waved  his  hand  with  a  gesture  of  scorn. 
No  word  about  his  dead  sister  could  he  tolerate  from  the 
lips  of  the  man  whom  he  thought  utterly  vile  and  base. 

He  went  to  the  girls,  who  stood,  with  fear  on  their  faces, 
hand  in  hand.  The  composed,  well-bred  manner,  the  low 
bow,  and  the  courteous  bearing  were  something  novel  to 
them.    He  looked  into  each  sweet  shrinking  face. 

"My  sister's  children,"  he  said,  "  have  you  any  word  of 
welcome  for  me  ?    I  bring  a  message  from  your  mother." 

Leah  freed  her  hand  from  her  sister's  clasp  and  held 
it  out  to  him.  He  drew  her  to  him  and  kissed  the  pale 
young  face.  She  found  that  he  was  trembling  with  agita- 
tion and  emotion.  Then  he  took  Hettie  in  his  arms  and 
kissed  her  also. 


4}(  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

"  I  was  quite  a  young  man,'*  he  said.  **  when  I  left 
home,  and  your  mother  was  much  younger  than  I.  She 
was  my  beloved  sister,  playmate,  and  treasure.  It  was  a 
great  grief  to  me  to  be  obliged  to  part  from  her  when  I  went 
abroad.  I  remember  her  face,  and  in  yours  I  see  some 
trace  of  it.     What  word  of  welcome  have  you  for  me  ? " 

Impulsive  Leah  threw  her  arms  around  him  and  raised 
her  face  to  his. 

"  Welcome  home,  uncle,"  she  said. 

"  What  is  your  name,  dear  child  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Leah,"  she  replied. 

**  Leah  !  It  is  a  beautiful,  sorrowful  name.  Why  did 
your  mother  give  it  to  you  ?  Did  she  foresee  a  shadow  in 
ycvar  life  ?  You  look  like  Leah ;  no  other  name  would 
siiit  you.     And  your  age  ? " 

*'  I  shall  soon  be  seventeen,"  she  replied  with  uncon- 
scious pride  in  her  voice. 

"And  you?"  he  continued,  turning  to  the  younger 
sister. 

"  I  am  Hettie,"  she  said,  "  and  I  am  nearly  sixteen." 

*'  Heaven  bless  you,  my  dear  !  You  have  a  sweet  face  of 
your  own.  Your  mother  bade  me — here  is  the  letter — you 
can  read  it — she  bade  me,  when  I  returned  home,  seek  you, 
find  you,  and  save  you." 

"  Save  us  !  "  crid  Leah.     "  From  what  i " 

"  She  must  have  known  what  she  was  writing,"  replied 
the  general.  **  She  was  sweet-tempered,  and  never  com- 
plained, but  she  died  young,  and  of  no  complaint  to  which 
men  could  give  a  name.  She  was  not  happy,  and  she 
asked  me  to  save  you." 

Martin  Ray  stepped  forward. 

"  I  will  not  allow  you  to  speak  in  that  fashion,"  he  said. 
"  Their  mother  loved  me,  and  they  love  me ;  you  will  never 
set  my  children  against  me  " 

<U  have  no  wish  to  d(»  so/'  said  the  general  coldly 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  43 

•*  Knowing  your  true  character,  as  I  suspect  my  sister  knew 
it  before  her  death,  I  can  imagine  you  to  be  quite  unfit  to 
have  the  charge  of  young  girls ;  therefore  I  bring  their 
mother's  message  to  them,  and  they  can  make  their  choice. 

"  Why  am  I  unfit  ?  "  cried  Martin  Ray,  his  face  white 
with  rage  "  in  what  way  ?  " 

"  I  judge  you  from  your  public  character.  You  are 
without  honor,  honesty,  and  loyalty.  You  are  the  very 
ringleader  of  sedition  ;  treason  is  a  natural  atmosphere  to 
you.  You  live  on  the  hard  earnings  of  the  people  whom  you 
mislead.  You  spread  disaffection,  rebellion,  ruin,  misery, 
and  death  wherever  you  go." 

A  low  cry  came  from  Leah's  lips.  It  seemed  to  ner 
that  these  words  of  her  uncle's  gave  life  to  a  horrible  spec- 
tre that  had  always  haunted  her. 

"  If,"  continued  the  soldier,  "  you  were  honest,  I  should 
have  some  respect  for  you.  But  you  are  an  impostor. 
You,  and  such  as  you,  live  on  the  hard-earned  pence  of  the 
men  you  deceive.  If  you  gave  to  the  people,  instead  of 
taking  from  them,  one  might  have  some  little  faith  in 
you." 

*"  I  have  given  my  life  to  the  cause  I  have  at  heart,"  re. 
joined  Martin  Ray. 

*'  The  cause  of  anarchy  and  rebellion — the  cause  of  rev- 
olution, which  you  would  spread  like  a  firebrand  all  over 
the  land.  How  many  men's  lives  have  you  to  answer  for, 
Martin  Ray  >  You  have  kept  yourself  safe  ;  but  how  many 
men  have  you  slain  by  your  teaching  ?  You  have  found 
men  vain  and  weak,  ready  to  listen  to  anything  which  ap- 
peared to  lighten  their  burdens  ;  and  what  have  you 
taught  ?  Did  you  ever  teach  a  man  to  be  patient,  to  rest 
content  with  the  condition  in  which  Heaven  had  placed 
him,  to  work  soberl)*,  honestly,  and  justly  ?  No.  You 
taught  him  to  long  for  his  neighbor's  property,  to  rebef 
against  rightful  authority,  to  look  with  envious  eyes  on  all 


44  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

those  above  him,  to  brood  in  sullen  anger  until  murder  ran 
riot  in  his  heart.    Those  are  your  doctrines." 

"  Whatever  they  are,  I  believe  in  them,"  said  Martin 
Ray. 

"  Many  young  men  owe  their  ruin  and  death  to  you," 
continued  the  general.  "  You  have  urged  them  to  rebel ; 
you  have  seen  them  suffer  loss,  seen  them  condemned  to 
prison,  to  exile ;  yet  you  have  never  paused,  nor  taken  pity, 
nor  spared." 

**  I  have  done  my  duty,"  declared  Martin  Ray. 

**  You  are  not  a  fit  person  to  have  charge  of  girls  like 
these.  You  would  sell  them  heart  and  soul  to  further  your 
cause,"  and  Leah  shrunk  at  the  words,  a  sudden  pain 
piercing  her  heart.  "  You  value  their  youth,  their  fresh, 
sweet  grace  and  beauty,  only  so  far  as  they  will  help  you 
and  lure  men  to  your  belief  whom  you  cannot  teach  your- 
self. I  declare  to  Heaven,"  he  continued,  passionately, 
"that  I  am  relieved  and  grateful  to  find  them  as  they  are! 
I  should  not  have  been  surprised  had  I  discovered  that 
you  had,  even  young  as  they  are,  tried  to  make  platform 
orators  of  them." 

The  random  shot  went  home  to  the  very  heart  of  Mar- 
tin Ray,  and  blanched  Leah's  face  with  a  great  fear. 
This  was  indeed  the  furnace  of  fire  from  which  she  had 
longed  to  be  free. 

**  My  children  are  my  own,"  said  Martin — "  to  do  as  i 
will  with." 

"They  are  not  all  your  own,"  rejoined  General  Hatton, 
**  A  dead  hand  is  stretched  out  from  their  mother's  grave 
to  save  them.  They  belong  to  her,  dead  though  she  may 
be,  as  much  as  they  belong  to  you.  They  have  no  business 
with  you ;  you  are  no  fitting  guardian  for  them.  Those 
two  girls  have  good  blood  in  their  veins.  Their  ancestors 
were  loyal ;  they  gave  their  lives  for  the  safety  and  well- 
bemg  ot  tlie  throne  that  you  are  trying  to  overthrow ;  thejf 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  45 

lived  and  died  in  the  service  of  the  royal  race  that  you 
would  destroy."  His  anger  seemed  to  increase  as  he  went 
on.  "  I,"  he  continued,  "  make  no  boast.  I  have  served 
my  country  and  my  queen  as  an  honest  soldier  and  a  loyal 
man.  What  could  I  have  but  loathing  and  contempt  for 
one  who  is  the  greatest  traitor  and  the  worst  foe  to  the 
royal  house  that  I  serve  ?  Light  and  darkness,  day  and 
night  should  meet  and  embrace,  rather  than  that  I  should 
tolerate  you." 

"  I  do  not  want  your  toleration,"  said  Martin  Ray ;  "  in- 
deed, I  have  not  desired  the  honor  of  this  visit  at  all." 

*'  I  should  not  have  paid  it,  but  that  my  sister  asked  me 
to  save  her  children.  She  was  dying  when  she  wrote  the 
words,  and  she  knew  best  from  what  I  had  to  save  them." 

"  There  is  one  thing  you  must  allow  me  to  say ;  you 
have  not  been  in  any  great  hurry  to  fulfil  your  sister^s 
wishes.  She  has  been  dead  some  years ;  it  must  therefore 
be  rather  late  to  save  my  children,  as  you  choose  to  ex- 
press it." 

A  deep  flush  covered  the  soldier's  face. 

**  It  is  true,"  he  said,  "  that  I  have  been  neglectful  in 
this  matter ;  I  reproach  myself  bitterly  for  it.  When  that 
letter  came,  I  ought  to  have  started  for  England  at  once ; 
but  I  did  not,  and  other  interests  drove  the  subject  from 
my  mind.  I  will  make  all  the  amends  I  can.  Armed 
with  my  sister's  authority,  I  am  here  by  her  wish  to  save 
her  children  from  the  fate  that  living  with  you,  an  agitator 
and  impostor,  must  of  necessity  bring  upon  them." 

"My  children  are  my  own,"  repeated  Martin  Ray 
with  difficulty  repressing  his  passion,  "  and  I  shall  keep 
them." 

"You  are  unfitted  for  the  charge.  Heavens  knows 
how  they  have  fared  hitherto  ;  but  you  could  never  teach 
them  to  be  honorable,  industrious  or  honest.  You  are  a 
disloyal  subject — you  have  spent  some  of  the  best  years  ol 


4.6  A  BROKEN  WEDDING'RINQ^ 

your  life  in  prison  ;  what  can  you  have  to  do  with  the  traitti 
ing  of  innocent  young  girls  ?  '* 
A  cry  from  Leah  interrupted  him. 
"  Is  it  true,  father  ? "  she  said.     "  Have  you  been  in 
prison  ? " — while  Hettie  went  up  to  him  silently,  and  placed 
her  hand  in  his. 

In  the  midst  of  his  shame  and  exposure  one  at  least  of 
Martin's  daughters  was  faithful  to  him. 

"Is  it  true  ? "  repeated  Leah,  in  a  voice  of  anguish 
that  smote  both  men  with  regret. 

"  I  was  a  political  prisoner,  Leah,"  he  replied ;  "  and 
that  is  a  very  different  matter  from  being  a  common  felon. 
Kings  have  been  political  prisoners  before  now.  I  am  not 
ashamed  of  it  " — yet  his  eyes  drooped  before  the  wistful 
imploring  gaze  of  his  best-loved  child.  "  I  am  not  ashamed 
of  it,  Leah,"  he  repeated. 

"  How  is  it  that  we  did  not  know  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Why 
did  you  never  tell  us  ? " 

"  There  was  no  need  to  throw  the  shadow  of  a  prison 
across  the  brightness  of  your  hves,"  he  replied ;  and  he 
noticed — he  could  not  help  it — that,  while  one  daughter 
drew  closer  to  him  and  kissed  his  hand,  the  other  seemed 
to  shrink  further  from  him.  The  fatal  word  "  prison  "  had 
shocked  and  terrified  her. 

"  I  am  sorry  I  said  that,"  interposed  the  general,  hastily. 
**  I  did  not  know  that  your  imprisonment  had  been  kept 
secret  from  your  children,  or  I  would  not  have  mentioned 
it.  Your  conduct  was  commendable,  Martin  Ray.  I  would 
withdraw  my  words  if  I  could.  I  never  anticipated  that  I 
should  have  to  express  regret  to  you;  but  as  there  is  every 
ground  for  it,  I  do  so  now  willingly." 

*'  I  care  little  for  it,"  said  Martin  Ray ;  but  he  winced 
as  he  saw  the  strange,  wistful  pain  on  Leah's  face.  "  They 
were  kept  in  ignorance  at  the  time,  but  in  a  few  year?^ 
lyhen  they  had  become  old  enough  to  know  and  understand 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  4^ 

nAat  political  persecution  means,  I  should,  perhaps,  have 
toia  them." 

"  I  can  only  repeat  that  I  am  sorry;  I  had  not  meant 
to  betray  any  secret,"  said  the  general,  stiffly.  "  Let  me 
say  what  I  have  to  say.  Children,  listen  to  me,  and,  as 
you  listen,  make  your  choice.  Remember  this,  that  I  come 
to  you  as  a  messenger  from  the  dead," 

Looking  into  the  brave,  kindly  face,  Leah  wondered  to 
herself  if  the  answer  to  her  many  prayers  was  come — if  he 
had  been  sent  to  save  her  from  a  life  she  had  dreaded. 

"  1  come,"  said  the  general,  proudly,  "  to  make  a  pro- 
position ;  how  it  will  be  received  I  know  not.  I  make  it 
in  my  dead  sister's  name.  I  abhor  and  detest  the  prin- 
ciples and  teachings  of  Martin  Ray ;  I  hold  them  in  such 
supreme  contempt  that  I  can  never  after  this  day  have  any 
communication  whatever  with  him.  .  I  would  rather  cut  off 
my  right  hand  than  let  it  touch  his.  But  his  children  are 
the  children  of  my  dead  sister,  and  I  am  here  to  make 
them  an  offer.  I  am  a  rich  man  ;  I  have  been  married* 
and  my  wife,  in  dying,  left  me  a  large  fortune ;  besides 
which,  all  that  I  have  undertaken  has  prospered.  I  have 
no  children,  no  relatives  save  my  two  nieces,  and  conse- 
quently no  one  to  succeed  to  my  wealth.  I  shall  never 
marry  again;  and  I  propose,  in  accordance  with  my 
sister's  wishes,  to  adopt  Leah  and  Hettie,  and  treat  them 
as  daughters  of  my  own.  I  will  educate  them,  find  a  proper 
chaperone  for  them,  introduce  them  to  their  proper  sphere^ 
and  I  will  divide  my  money  equally  between  them." 

There  was  dead  silence  in  the  room.  Martin  Ray 
grew  pale.  The  girls  looked  startled  and  surprised.  The 
silence  was  painful  until  the  general  broke  it  himself. 

"  I  need  hardly  say  what  a  different  life  this  will  be  for 
them.  With  large  fortunes,  and  the  name  of  Hatton,  they 
may  aspire  to  any  position,  they  may  marry  as  they  will. 
They  will  be  equal  to  any  ladies  in  the  land.    A  brilliant 


48  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

future  lies  before  them — wealth,  gayety,  pleasure,  all  that 
is  most  bright  and  beautiful.  But  I  will  do  this  only  on 
one  condition ;  and  it  is  to  this  condition  that  I  beg  you  to 
give  your  best  attention.  I  can  hold  no  communication 
with  Martin  Ray.  A  soldier  of  the  queen  and  a  preacher 
of  sedition  cannot  join  hands.  If  I  adopt  these  children 
and  make  them  my  own,  they  must  give  up  for  ever  all 
communication  with  the  man  who  is  their  father;  they 
must  give  up  his  name  and  take  mine  ;  they  must  cease  to 
hold  any  intercourse  with  him,  unless  he  is  ill  or  dying.  I 
can  accept  no  half  measures — it  must  be  all  or  nothing." 

"  It  is  inhuman,"  cried  Martin  Ray. 

"  It  is  natural,"  said  the  general.  "  Loyalty  and  treason 
can  never  go  hand  in  hand.  Give  my  sister's  children  to 
me,  and  I  will  make  them  my  own ;  but  I  will  never  share 
the  charge  of  them  with  you." 

There  was  silence  again,  during  which  one  could  hear 
the  labored  breathing  of  Martin  Ray. 

"  That  is  like  an  aristocrat,"  he  said.  "  Remorselessly 
you  ride  roughshod  over  the  feelings  of  those  whom  you 
choose  to  consider  as  beneath  you.  Why  should  you  seek 
to  take  my  children  from  me  ?  Why  should  you  offer  to 
bribe  them  with  money  and  pleasure  ?  Do  you  call  that 
honorable  ?  An  aristocrat's  notion  of  honor — the  bribing 
of  children  to  leave  their  father!  Their  mother,  sweet 
soul,  loved  me  until  she  died ;  they  will  do  the  same. 
Offer  what  you  will,  my  children  will  not  desert  me.  I 
dare  you — I  defy  you  !  Double  the  gold  that  you  offer  and 
a  name  twice  as  noble  as  the  one  you  bear  will  not  take 
them  from  me." 

"They  shall  speak  for  themselves,"  returned  the 
general.  "  It  is  a  decision  for  life,  not  for  a  short  time 
only.  The  fairest  way  is  to  leave  it  to  them  to  make  their 
choice." 

"I  am  not  afraid,"  said  Martin  Ray  j  but  he  wondered 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  49 

at  the  strange  look  on  Leah's  face.  ''^I  appeal  to  my 
children ;  they  have  loved,  obeyed,  honored  me ;  will  they 
forsake  me  now  for  a  stranger  who  confesses  that  he  de* 
tests  me  ? " 

"  I  make  no  appeal,"  put  in  the  general ;  "  I  leave  it  to 
them.  If  they  will  come  to  me,  they  shall  be  as  children 
of  my  own;  but  they  must  give  up  all  claim  to  you.  I  own 
that  it  is  a  momentous  choice,  and  one  most  difficult  to 
make." 

Again  the  painful  silence  fell  over  them,  unbroken  this 
time  by  any  sound.  The  girls  stood  with  white  faces,  look- 
ing from  one  man  to  the  other. 

"  My  children,"  said  Martin  Ray,  "  I  leave  it  to  you.'* 

He  turned  away  his  head,  too  proud  at  that  moment  to 
let  the  expression  of  his  face  be  seen. 

"  And  I,'*  said  General  Hatton,  looking  at  each  of  his 
nieces,  "  leave  it  to  you  also.  My  dead  sister's  children, 
do  as  you  will ;  but  do  not  forget  your  mother's  words.'* 

With  a  cry,  the  girls  clasped  their  arms  around  each 
other.  In  that  moment  they  felt  quite  alone  in  the  world. 
How  v;ere  they  to  make  such  a  choice  ?  To  Leah's  mind 
recurred  the  memory  of  her  fervent  prayers  for  some  one 
who  would  deliver  her  from  her  "  furnace  of  fire."  She 
looked  into  the  blue  eyes  of  her  sister. 

"  It  is  what  I  prayed  for,"  she  whispered. 

Then  slowly,  as  the  waters  of  a  great  sea  divide,  the 
two  girls  separated,  sadly,  mournfully,  looking  back  with 
lingering  regret,  yet  never  faltering ;  and  Leah,  the  child 
whom  Martin  Ray  had  loved,  of  whom  he  had  been  so  un- 
utterably proud,  whom  he  had  hoped  to  see  hi§  political 
successor,  beautiful  dark-eyed  Leah,  went  to  her  uncle  and 
aid  her  hand  upon  his. 

"  I  prayed  to  Heaven  for  deliverance,'*  she  said,  "  and 
you  have  brought  it.    I  accept  your  ofier,*' 


go  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

"With  a  bitter  cry,  Martin  Ray  turned  to  her.  There 
was  dignity  in  the  sorrow  of  his  voice  and  face. 

*'  You  make  your  choice — deliberately  and — ^wilfully, 
Leah?" 

"  I  make  it  of  my  own  free  will,  father.  I  would  have 
chosen  death  rather  than  the  life  you  mapped  out  for  me." 

Loving  arms  were  placed  around  his  neck ;  a  loving, 
beautiful  face  was  laid  against  his. 

"  I  will  never  leave  you,  father,"  said  Hettie.  "  I  will 
give  my  life  to  you." 

So  for  some  minutes  they  stood  —  the  general  with 
his  arm  thrown  round  Leah,  as  though  from  that  moment 
he  wQuld  shield  her  from  all  harm,  and  from  every  one  ; 
Hftttie  clasping  her  father's  neck,  her  face  wet  with  tears. 

**I  accept  your  offer,  uncle,"  said  Leah,  in  a  calm, 
clear  voice  ;  "  and  I  shall  always  believe  that  Heaven  seat 
you  to  me." 

"  I  will  never  leave  you,  father ! "  cried  Hettie.  "  My 
love  shall  make  up  to  you  for  the  loss  of  Leah's ! " 

*'  I  do  not  say  that  I  shall  cease  to  love  my  father — you 
have  no  right  to  imply  such  a  thing,  Hettie — but  I  cannot 
refuse  to  take  advantage  of  my  uncle's  kindness  !  " 

"  I  will  never  leave  you,  father  darling ! "  cried  the 
younger  girl.  "The  more  they  say  against  you,  the  more  I 
will  love  you.  I  do  not  believe  any  of  the  accusations 
against  you,  and  I  love  you  with  all  my  heart."  It  was 
beautiful  to  see  the  light  in  her  face,  the  love  in  her  eyes, 
the  childish  passion  of  wounded  pride  with  which  she  clung 
to  him,  the  tenderness  with  which  the  little  white  hand 
stroked  and  caressed  him.  "  I  woiild  not  leave  you,  dear," 
she  repeated,  "  if  he  would  make  me  queen  of  the  whole 
world.  I  believe  all  that  you  believe.  I  will  never  be 
false  to  you.     Nothing  shall  ever  take  me  from  you.'^ 

He  was  a  politician — he  had  never  considered  himself 
a  religious  man — indeed  his  ideas  on  religion  were  worse 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  ^I 

and  lower  than  his  ideas  on  politics ;  yet  he  bowed  his 
face  on  the  golden  head  for  some  few  minutes,  and  words 
not  often  on  his  lips  came  from  them.  Then  he  turned  to 
the  other  two. 

"  You  hear,"  he  said ;  "  there  is  one  faithful  to  me. 
You  may  take  the  other.     I — I  give  her  to  you !  '* 

"  I  could  never  lead  the  life  you  want  me  to  lead, 
father — never,"  remarked  Leah  ;  "  and  how  would  you 
have  borne  with  me  had  I  refused  ?  Do  not  think  that  my 
heart  is  not  rent." 

"  You  need  say  no  more  ! "  cried  Martin  Ray  "Have 
we  not  heard  how  sharper  than  a  serpent's  tooth  \'c  is  to 
have  a  thankless  child  ?  I  have  no  son,  and  I  rested  my 
pride,  my  hopes,  my  ambition  on  you ;  and  you  have  heart- 
lessly deserted  me  for  a  stranger  who  despises  me." 

*'  I  cannot  believe  as  you  believe,  father,  or  think  as 
you  think.  We  must  have  parted  sooner  or  later ;  I  could 
not  have  borne  my  lot,  now  that  I  am  beginning  to  under* 
stand  you." 

Hettie*s  arms  clasped  him  even  more  tightly. 

*'  Never  mind,  father.  I  will  make  it  all  up  to  you.  I 
will  die  to  save  you  from  pain.  She  will  tire  soon,  and 
come  back  to  you." 

"  Never  !  "  he  cried,  his  face  aflarue  with  anger.  "  Stand 
away  from  me,  Hettie  !  Let  me  see  the  child  so  ready  to 
leave  me  and  give  up  the  love  of  years  at  the  bidding  of  a 
stranger  ! " 

Hettie  drew  back,  and  at  that  moment  she  knew  in  her 
heart  that  his  best  and  dearest  love  had  been  given  to  the 
daughter  who  had  deserted  him. 

**  Let  me  look  at  her  ! "  he  cried.     "  She  has  deserted 
me  and  gone  over  to  my  enemies  ! " 

*'  \  have  simply  given  up  a  life  which  has  never  been 
tolerable  to  me,  and  which  grows  more  unbearable  every 


^2  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

day.  I  shall  love  you  always,  father ;  but  I  shall  iievef 
share  your  principles." 

His  face  paled  with  anger. 

*'  You  speak  bravely  enough  now  that  you  know  your 
words  give  me  no  concern.  I  am  justly  punished,  for  in 
my  blindness  I  confess  that  I  loved  you  best.  You  must 
forgive  me,  Hettie.     I  shall  love  but  one  daughter  now.'* 

*'  I  have  nothing  to  forgive  ;  it  was  natural  that  you 
should  love  Leah  best.  Do  not  be  cngry  with  her.  She 
told  me  she  did  not  care  about  the  life  you  wanted  her  to 
lead.  Leah  loves  everything  beautiful,  and  she  wants  to 
be  loved.     She  does  not  care  for  lectures  and  politics." 

The  simple  words  almost  made  the  general  smile ;  but 
there  was  no  smile  on  the  lips  of  'Martin  Ray,  as  he  turned 
to  his  elder  child. 

*'  Look  at  me,"  he  said,  "  and  tell  me  to  my  face  that 
you  are  going  to  leave  me." 

*'  It  is  the  life  I  leave,  not  you,"  she  replied. 

"  Listen  to  me,  Leah.  If  you  leave  me  now,  you  shall 
never,  so  help  me  Heaven,  look  upon  my  face  again  !  You 
shall  go  from  my  house,  my  heart,  my  life,  never  to  re-enter 
them.  You  shall  cease  even  to  be  known  by  my  name  ; 
and  your  sister  shall  never  see  or  speak  to  you  again.  Do 
you  understand  all  that  you  are  giving  up  ? " 

She  was  pale  as  a  white  lily. 

"  I  can  bear  my  coming  life  better  than  the  other, 
father,  I  could  never  follow  the  career  that  you  have 
traced  for  me.     It  is  better  that  I  should  go." 

"  Oh,  Leah,  you  must  not  leave  him !  You  cannot 
desert  me  !  I  shall  die  if  you  go  from  me  and  leave  me 
here  alone  ! " 

"  Come  with  me,  Hettie ;  if  it  is  no  life  for  me,  it  is  none 
for  you.     Come  with  me.'* 

''Noj  I  will  never  leave  my  father  unless  I  diet* 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING' RING.  53 

sobbed  the  girl.  *'How  can  you  act  so,  Leah?  Your 
own  father !  '* 

"You  forget,"  interrupted  Leah,  "that  it  is  mothe^ 
who  has  sent  for  me." 

"  Her  heart  is  hardened  !  "  cried  Martin  Ray.  "  Say 
no  more  to  her,  Hettie.  She  can  leave  us  both  without 
tears.  We  must  learn  to  live  without  her.  She  is  a  thank- 
less child,  and  you  are  a  loving  one.  Come  to  my  heart, 
Hettie ;  your  home  shall  be  there." 

But  as  her  golden  head  lay  upon  his  breast,  amid  her 
sobs  and  tears,  she  heard  the  name  of  Leah  as  often  as 
she  heard  her  own. 

"  There  is  no  need  to  prolong  this  painful  scene,"  said 
General  Hatton,  after  a  short  silence.  "  My  dear  Leah, 
for  the  trust  and  confidence  you  have  shown  me  I  thank 
you.  You  shall  see  that  it  is  well  placed.  I  take  you 
from  what  I  believe  to  be  most  unworthy  hands,  and  adopt 
you  as  my  own  daughter.  I  would  take  your  sister,  but  she 
declines  to  come.  If  in  the  future  she  should  change  hei 
mind,  I  shall  none  the  less  be  still  her  friend." 

"  I  thank  you,"  said  a  gentle  voice,  full  of  tears  ;  "  but 
I  shall  never  leave  my  father.  It  does  not  matter  who  he 
is,  or  what  any  one  thinks  of  him,  he  is,  my  father,  and  I 
will  be  faithful  to  him." 

"  I  say  nothing  but  this,"  replied  the  general ;  "  If  ever 
you  want  a  friend  come  to  me." 

"  She  will  never  want  one  while  I  live  ! "  cried  Martin 
Ray.  "  Oh,  Leah,  child  of  my  heart,  how  little  did  I  dream 
that  you  would  become  one  of  those  against  whom  I  have 
preached  and  taught  my  life  long !  That  I  should  have  a 
daughter  among  the  wealthy  and  the  aristocracy  of  the 
land  is  to  me  a  shame  and  disgrace.  There  is  yet  time  to 
make  your  final  decision,  Leah.  I  will  believe  that  you 
were  over-tempted  by  the  man  who  has  bribed  you ;  I  will 
believe  that  you  repent  of  your  momentary  desertion  \  i 


54  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

will  believe  anything  and  everything  if  you  will  only  com© 
back  to  me,  Leah,  child  of  my  heart ! " 

General  Hatton  stood  by  and  said  nothing.  He  would 
not  influence  the  girl ;  her  heart  should  decide.  He  could 
not  help  thinking  what  a  beautiful  picture  of  pathetic  deter- 
mination she  made,  standing  with  her  eyes  wistfully  seek- 
ing her  father's  face,  her  hands  clasped. 

"  I  could  never  be  what  you  want  me  to  be,  father,'* 
she  said ;  "  and  you  would  dislike  me,  hate  me,  when  I 
refused.  It  is  better  that  I  should  accept  my  uncle's 
offer." 

"  You  refuse  then,  decidedly,  once  and  forever,  Leah, 
to  carry  out  my  wishes  ?  " 

"  I  do  refuse,"  she  replied,  calmly.  "  I  could  not  act 
as  you  wish.  I  do  not  believe  in  that  which  you  would 
have  me  teach." 

"  Say  no  more,"  he  cried,  holding  up  his  hand  as  though 
he  would  ward  off  a  blow — *'  no  more  !  I  have  heard  from 
your  own  lips  your  decision.  You  choose  to  make  your 
home  with  this  stranger — for  stranger  he  is,  no  matter  how 
closely  he  may  be  related  to  you — ^you  would  rather  live 
with  him  than  with  me  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  my  fault,"  she  said  humbly.  "  You  would 
have  made  my  life  intolerable  to  me." 

"  You  renounce  me — ^give  me  up  entirely  for  him .?  " 
continued  Martin.  "  You  cast  me  out  of  your  life,  and 
choose  to  cling  to  him  ?  Do  not  be  afraid  to  speak  out 
plainly." 

**  I  am  not  afraid,'*  she  replied,  calmly.  "  I  do  prefer 
to  go  to  my  mother's  brother." 

"  Well  and  good,"  said  Martin  Ray,  with  a  white  face — 
^^  well  and  good.  You  have  made  your  choice ;  you  must 
abide  by  it.  Nothing  can  ever  alter  it  in  this  world. 
Some  fathers  would  have  cursed  you.  I  will  not ;  but  1 
tell  you,  as  much  in  sorrow  as  in  anger,  that  punishment 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 


l^ 


will  fall  upon  you.  I  may  not  have  been  perhaps  the  best 
of  fathers,  but  I  am  your  father,  and  to  give  up  my  love 
and  protection  for  that  of  another  is,  I  say,  a  sin  that  cries 
to  Heaven  for  vengeance.  You  hear  me,  Leah  ?  I  say  it 
to  warn  you.  The  time  will  come  when,  with  unutterable 
regret,  you  will  remember  this  hour  and  this  deed.  The 
time  will  come  when  the  anger  of  Heaven  will  fall  upon 
you — when,  in  your  turn,  your  heart  will  be  torn  with 
anguish,  and  you  will  say  to  yourself :  *  This  is  the  punish- 
ment that  my  father  prophesied  for  me.'  I  do  not  curse 
you,  Leah  ;  I  leave  you  to  the  Power  that  never  fails  to 
punish  or  reward." 

"  Do  not  be  so  angry  with  her,  father,"  said  a  loving 
voice ;  and  again  Hettie's  arms  clung  to  him  tenderly. 

The  general,  seeing  that  Leah  had  hardly  strength  to 
stand,  drew  her  nearer  to  him. 

"  There  is  one  thing  I  must  do  before  you  go,"  said 
Martin  Ray.  **  I  will  not  say  that  I  have  studied  my  Bible 
much  ;  but  I  have  made  a  family  register  of  it." 

He  unclasped  Hettie's  arms,  and  placed  her  in  a  chair, 
then  he  went  to  the  bookshelf,  took  from  it  a  large  Bible, 
opened  it,  and  laid  it  upon  the  table  before  the  general. 
There  was  about  his  action  that  dignity  that  comes  'from 
great  sorrow. 

"  Look !  "  he  said,  pointing  with  his  finger.  "  There 
is  the  entry  of  my  marriage  with  Doris  Hatton.  Here  is 
the  birth  of  my  first  and  best-beloved  child  Leah,  more 
than  sixteen  years  ago.  Here  is  the  birth  of  Hettie,  fifteen 
years  ago.  Now  see.  My  eldest  child  is  dead  to  me  ;  she 
died  to-day.     I  have  but  one  daughter  living." 

He  took  a  pen  and  dipped  it  in  ink,  and  through  the 
name  of  Leah  Ray  he  drew  a  thick  black  line  with  steady 
fingers.  He  wrote  opposite  to  it,  "  Dead  to  me."  Then 
he  closed  the  book,  and  replaced  it  on  the  shelf. 

"  There  is  no  more  to  be  either  said  or  done,"  he  con- 


g6  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

tinued.  "You  have  taken  my  child  from  me,  General 
Hatton.  She  goes  readily — let  her  go.  I  do  not  mean  to 
complain  ;  but,  when  she  passes  over  the  threshold  of  the 
house,  she  passes  over  my  heart." 

General  Hatton  bent  down,  and  looked  into  the  beauti' 
ful  face  so  white  and  still. 

"  Leah,"  he  said,  gently,  "  I  would  not  over-persuade 
you — and  the  choice  is  for  life.  Will  you  take  time  to 
think  over  it  ?  " 

**  No,"  she  answered,  faintly.  "  I  could  not  live  the 
life  that  is  proposed  for  me.  I  hate  it.  I  prayed  to 
Heaven  to  send  me  deliverance.  I  cannot  refuse  it  now 
that  it  has  come." 

"  You  need  not  do  so,"  said  the  general.  "  I  wish  your 
sister  would  come  too." 

But  Hettie  clung  to  her  father. 

After  a  few  moments  Martin  raised  his  hands. 

"  I  am  no  prophet,"  he  said  ;  "  but  I  believe  in  the  nat- 
ural order  and  the  natural  fitness  of  things.  I  predict  that 
over  the  head  of  the  child  who  has  forsaken  me  dark  clouds 
will  gather ;  I  predict  for  her  a  sad  life  in  the  midst  of 
wealth,  luxury,  and  gayety.  For  the  daughter  whose 
faithful  heart  and  tender  love  are  my  consolation  I  pre- 
dict happiness  in  life  and  in  death.  May  Heaven  confirm 
what  I  say !  " 

"  We  will  have  a  proper  understanding,"  said  Sir  Arthur 
Hatton.  "  I  am  not  unreasonable,  though  I  frankly  con- 
fess I  dislike  everything  about  you — ^your  name,  your  char- 
acter, your  life,  and  its  aims.  I  am  implacable  in  my  re- 
sentment against  you  for  having  stolen  my  sister  and 
blighted  her  life,  and  I  will  never  willingly  hold  any  com- 
munication with  you — never.  You  and  I  will  be  strangers  ; 
your  children  will  be  strangers,  if  one  goes  with  me  and 
one  remains  with  you — strangers  always.  I  shall  require 
that  they  neither  write  nor  speak  to  each  other,  except  it 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  57 

Is  a  case  of  life  and  death.  But,  if  you  are  ill  or  dying^ 
and  send  for  Leah,  she  shall  come.  If  Hettie  be  dying, 
or  ill,  and  send  for  her,  she  shall  come." 

"  Neither  in  life  nor  in  death  shall  we  meet  again,"  de- 
clared Martin  Ray.  *'  We  shall  live  our  lives ;  they  will 
be  far  apart  from  hers.  To  me  she  no  longer  exists.  I 
have  touched  her  hand,  kissed  her  face,  spoken  to  her  for 
the  last  time.  She  lies  in  her  coffin  now  to  me,  and  I  draw 
the  sheet  over  her  face — she  is  dead !  Oh,  Hettie,  with 
your  mother's  eyes,  comfort  me  !  " 

Leah  raised  her  white  face  to  Sir  Arthur^s. 

"  This  is  dreadful,"  she  said ;  "  it  is  killing  me.  But  I 
cannot  follow  out  my  father's  wishes.     Take  me  away." 

Then  the  two  sisters  looked  at  each  other.  In  each  face 
was  an  unspoken  longing. 

"  No,"  said  Martha  Ray,  sternly,  "you  shall  not  touch 
her,  Hettie  I  She  has  cast  i;s  off ;  let  her  go  her  own 
way." 

"  Just  once,"  pleaded  Hettie.  "  Let  me  kiss  her  once, 
father.  We  are  own  sisters,  you  know ;  we  have  loved 
each  other  so  dearly.  Oh,  Leah,  stay  with  us,  darling  ;  do 
not  go ! " 

"  No,  not  once  or  ever !  "  cried  Martin  Ray,  raising  his 
hand.  "  You  shall  not  kiss  her !  You  shall  not  even  say 
good-by  to  her  !  Let  her  leave  us  in  silence — the  silence 
of  death." 

And  Hettie,  whose  loving  heart  was  almost  broken,  fell 
upon  her  knees,  hiding  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  sobbing 
with  bitter  tears  and  cries.  She  dared  not  raise  her  head 
to  take  a  last  look  at  the  face  she  loved  so  well. 

The  general  drew  Leah  near  to  the  door. 

"  Good-by,  father,"  she  said.  "  I  am  not  cold,  unlov- 
ing, or  heartless  ;  but  I  coulcknot  lead  the  life  you  selected 
for  me.  I  would  rather  have  died.  1  will  come  back  i| 
you  want  me  or  send  for  me," 


58  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

She  moved  towards  him,  as  though  she  would  fain  have 
kissed  his  hands  or  his  face  ;  bnt  he  turned  from  her  with 
a  gesture  of  angry  contempt. 

"  Good-by,  Hettie,"  she  said,  in  a  broken  voice. 
**  Nothing  can  part  us  for  long  ;  nothing  can  change  our 
affection  for  each  other;  time,  patience,  and  love  will 
bring  us  together  again.  If  you  want  me,  send,  and  I  will 
come." 

It  was  a  pitiful  scene — one  girl  kneeling  in  wild  distress 
on  the  ground,  the  other  pale,  trembling,  half  hesitating, 
moving  slowly  to  the  door. 

Suddenly  Leah  threw  up  her  arms  ivith  a  bitter  cry. 

"  It  is  worse  than  death !  "  she  said.  "  O  uncle  !  help 
me  ! " 

"  I  will  do  all  I  can  to  make  you  happy,  Leah,"  he  re^ 
plied. 

He  did  not  know  how  to  comfort  her.  It  was  he  who, 
in  seeking  to  rescue  her  from  a  life  she  hated,  had  brought 
these  troubles  upon  her.  Nature  was  more  kind ;  for, 
when  Sir  Arthur  beckoned  his  man-servant  to  help  him, 
Leah  had  lost  all  consciousness,  and  so  left  her  father's 
hou6c,  almubt  ub  Uc  hiia  t>aici  iu  tiie  stillness  of  death. 


4  BROKEN  WEDDING-RZNQ^  ^ 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

•*  She  is  gone/'  said  Martin  Ray,  hoarsely,  as  the  sound 
of  the  carriage-wheels  reached  them.  "  She  is  gone.  Met- 
tle, from  our  home  and  life  forever.     She  is  dead  to  us." 

And  the  man  whose  ends  and  aims  in  life  were  all  sel- 
fish, who  would  have  trampled  over  hundreds  of  human 
beings  to  attain  the  object  he  sought,  buried  his  face  in 
his  hands,  and  sobbed  aloud: 

The  sobs  aroused  Hettie,  who  in  her  whole  life  never 
remembered  to  have  seen  her  father  weep — startled  her 
into  forgetting  her  own  grief,  for  a  time,  to  console  him. 

She  went  to  him,  and  knelt  down  by  his  side. 

*'  I  will  love  you  doubly,  dearest,"  she  said,  "  to  make 
up  for  it.     I  will  be  two  daughters  in  one  to  you." 

He  stood  up,  gray,  worn,  and  haggard,  a  prematurely 

ofd  man. 

"  You  are  the  best  of  daughters,Hettie,"  he  said,  slowly  •, 
**  but  she — well,  you  see,  she  was  more  than  a  daughter  to 
me.  I  wanted  to  live  again  in  her.  You  are  all  that  is 
sweet,  kind,  and  gentle  ;  but  she  had  fire  and  passion,  she 
had  power  and  eloquence,  she  would  have  been  a  light  in 
the  darkness.  I  shall  never  be  the  same  man  again, 
Hettie.  I  did  not  know  that  I  could  be  so  human.  I  did 
not  know  that  I  was  capable  of  valuing  so  highly  the  love 
of  a  slip  of  a  girl.  I  think  better  of  myself  for  my  own 
grief,  Hettie." 

She  whispered  to  him,  after  the  manner  of  loving 
daughters,  that  he  was  perfect,  that  no  man  could  be 
better ;  and  unconsciously  the  gentle  flattery  soothed  him. 

"  How  strange,"  said  Hettie,  "  for  all  this  to  occur  ia 


^O  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING'RINO. 

one  day  I  This  morning  how  little  we  knew  of  what  was 
about  to  happen !  This  morning  I  hardly  remembered 
that  mamma  had  a  brother.  She  talked  to  us  about  hira 
sometimes,  but  I  had  nearly  forgotten  him.     Now — " 

"  Ah,  now,"  sighed  Martin  Ray,  spreading  out  his  hands 
in  speechless  distress — "  now  all  is  changed !  '* 

Hettie  looked  up  at  him  with  wistful  eyes. 

"Father,"  she  asked,  gently,  "was  my  mother  really  an 
aristocrat  ? " 

"  Good  Heaven,  no,  Hettie  I  Certainly  not.  She  was 
a  lady;  she  came  from  a  very  ancient  and  honorable 
family." 

"  That  is  something  to  be  proud  of,  is  it  not  ? "  she 
asked,  innocently. 

And  Martin  Ray  glared  at  her  with  angry  eyes.  He 
could  not  say  "  No,"  and  he  would  not  say  "  Yes."  It 
seemed  to  him  that  these  children  of  his,  so  long  docile 
and  blind  in  their  belief,  were  suddenly  rising  up  against 
him. 

"  Why  do  you  hate  my  mother^s  brother,  father  ?  Why 
could  you  not  be  friends  with  him  ?  "  she  persisted.  -  "  It 
would  have  been  so  pleasant  to  have  an  uncle.  Why  could 
you  not  be  friends  ? " 

"  Why  were  not  Napoleon  and  Wellington  friends  ? "  he 
asked  pompously.  "  Why  are  the  hare  and  the.  hounds, 
the  dove  and  the  hawk,  not  friends  ?  We  are  enemies 
naturally,  as  are  they." 

"  It  seems  so  strange,"  said  the  girl,  who  was  still  a 
child.  "  How  angry  his  face  was,  and  how  stern  his  voice ! 
He  thought  you  had  been  cruel  to  my  mother.  Why  did 
you  not  tell  him  it  was  not  so  ?  " 

Martin  Ray  paced  up  and  down  the  little  room ;  the 
sickly  yellow  light  from  the  setting  sun  still  lay  upon  the 
floor — the  door  through  which  his  daughter  had  passed  out 
toi  evermore  was  still  open.    Hot  anger  was  rising  in  his 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  6 1 

lieart.  Up  to  the  present  he  had  been  mastered  and  dis- 
tressed by  surprise  and  pain ;  now  the  wonder  was  past, 
the  pain  deepened,  and  he  grew  wrathful.  What  right  had 
this  man,  his  dead  wife's  brother,  to  come  and  take  his 
child  from  him  ?  If  it  had  been  Hettie,  it  would  have 
been  more  bearable — for  he  was  by  no  means  averse  to 
money — but  Leah,  bright,  beautiful,  proud  Leah,  who  was  to 
have  crowned  the  name  of  Ray  with  fame — it  was  worse 
than  parting  with  his  life's  blood  to  lose  her.  Angry  passion . 
surged  in  his  heart  against  the  man  who  had  taken  her. 
He  could  not  endure  the  simple,  innocent  prattle  of  the 
child  who  had  been  faithful  to  him.  He  turned  to  her 
with  a  darkening  face  that  almost  frightened  her. 

"Hettie,"  he  said,  "you  are  too  young  to  know  all  that 
a  vow  imports ;  but  you  understand  its  solemnity  ?  " 

With  beautiful  wondering  eyes  she  answered  "  Yes." 

"  You  must  register  a  vow  to  me,"  he  said.  "  I  will  not 
hear  that  man's  name  again.  I  forbid  you  to  mention  it. 
Swear  to  me  that  neither  his  name  nor  that  of  the  girl  he 
has  taken  with  him  shall  ever  pass  your  lips.  Swear  it, 
Hettie." 

Pale  and  trembling,  the  girl  looked  at  him. 
"  I  am  afraid,"  she  said.     "  I  have  never  sworn  in  all 
my  life.  Let  me  promise  that  I  will  do  as  you  wish,  father ; 
that  will  meet  the  case  as  well.     I  shall  keep  my  word." 

"No,  you  must  swear  it,  Hettie.  For  the  rest  of  my 
life  I  shall  trust  no  one — neither  man,  woman,  nor  child ; 
every  promise  made  to  me  shall  be  bound  by  an  oath. 
You  need  not  tremble,  child ;  many  persons  take  oaths." 

"  But  if  I  break  it." 

"That  is  the  very  thing,"  he  said.  "You  hesitate, 
Hettie,  not  because  you  are  afraid  of  an  oath,  but  because 
in  your  heart  you  intend  to  keep  up  a  correspondence  with 
Leah.  If  you  do  so,  you  will  never  more  be  child  of  mine. 
If  ever  I  find  that  by  word  or  deed  you  have  in  any  way 


62  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RINO, 

sought  her  or  held  any  communication  with  her,  that  mo- 
ment we  part,  and  the  curse  of  an  unhappy,  disappointed 
father  will  rest  upon  you  until  you  die." 

"  Oh,  not  that !     Do  not  say  that  ! "  cried  Hettie. 

**  Then  swear  what  I  wish  you  to  swear,and  bear  in  mind 
always  the  punishment  that  will  follow  if  you  do  not  keep 
your  oath.  Swear  to  me  that  the  names  of  the  two  in 
question  shall  never  pass  your  lips,  and  that,  in  no  circum- 
stances will  you  ever  hold  any  communication  with  either 
by  word,  deed,  sign,  or  letter." 

She  was  a  timid,  frightened,  loving  child,  and  she  swore 
as  he  bade  her ;  then  he  was  content. 

"  I  am  going  out,  Hettie."  he  said.  "  While  I  am  away 
see  that  everything  belonging  to  my  dead  daughter 
is  sent  from  the  house.  You  can  give  them  away,  burn,  or 
destroy  them  ;  but  they  must  not  be  here  when  I  return. 
After  that,  our  new  life  will  begin." 

He  went  away,  and  Hettie  was  left  to  her  sorrowful  task 
— to  look  at  the  bookshelves  and  take  from  them  every 
book  bearing  the  beloved  name,  to  go  to  the  room  where 
only  on  the  previous  night  they  had  talked,  and  wondered, 
and  slept,  and  remove  from  it  everything  that  belonged  to 
Leah — to  take  from  the  drawers  all  her  neat  prettj 
dresses,  to  collect  all  her  laces  and  ribbons,  every  little  or- 
nament, and  pack  them  together.  What  tears  she  shed  I 
What  anguish  of  heart,  what  sorrow,  what  unutterable  pain 
she  felt  !     She  cried  until  she  became  ill  and  faint. 

At  last  her  task  was  accomplished,  and  she  had  every- 
thing securely  packed  in  one  large  trunk ;  then  came  the 
difficulty — what  was  she  to  do  with  it  ?  She  remembered 
that  not  far  away  a  girl  lived  who  had  been  an  invalid  for 
many  years,  and  who  would  doubtless  be  delighted  with 
the  contents.  To  her  Hettie  sent  the  trunk,  saying  that 
her  sister  had  departed  from  home,  and  had  left  these  things 
to  be  given  away.    And,  thus^  when  Martin  Ray  returned^ 


A  BROKEN-  WEDDING-RING.  63 

and  looked  inquiringly  at  Hettie,  asking  if  his  commands 
had  been  obeyed,  she  was  able  to  answer  "  Yes." 

Then  they  began  the  new  life  ;  but  oh,  the  blank,  awful 
horror  of  it — the  gloom,  the  chill  that  came  over  them  ! 
Martin  Ray  sat  moodily  smoking  his  pipe,  while  Hettie 
tried  to  interest  herself  in  her  domestic  duties.  There  was 
no  Leah.  Ten  times  an  hour  Martin  Ray  turned  to  look 
for  the  beautiful  face  he  had  loved  so  well ;  then,  with  a 
muttered  oath,  he  told  himself  that  she  was  dead.  Twenty 
times  in  an  hour  Hettie  turned  with  an  involuntary  cry  for 
Leah,  forgetting  for  one  happy  moment  what  had  hap- 
pened, and  then  she  would  recall  it  with  something  like 
despair. 

It  was  a  chill,  terrible  blank,  of  which  neither  spoke,  al- 
though their  hearts  were  filled  with  the  sense  of  it.  The 
tea-table,  with  two  solitary  cups ;  the  piano,  where  the 
beautiful,  passionate  face  would  be  seen  no  more — every- 
thing spoke  of  her.  Then  at  night  came  the  friends  and 
comrades  of  Martin  Ray,  eager  to  see  and  hear  more  of 
the  beautiful  girl  introduced  to  them  on  the  preceding 
evening  as  one  of  the  brightest  coming  lights.  Few  words 
were  spoken  between  them ;  but  they  all  understood  in 
what  manner  Martin  Ray  had  lost  his  daughter.  There 
was  little  outward  display  of  sympathy  among  these  men ; 
but  in  each  heart  hatred  of  "  the  aristocrats  "  burned  on 
that  evening  hotter  than  ever. 

Martin  Ray  had  learned  his  lesson.  He  would  not  have 
Hettie  present  at  these  meetings,  as  Leah  had  been.  He 
told  her  to  take  her  book  and  go  to  her  room,  and  ihe  poor 
child  obeyed.  There  and  then,  for  the  first  time,  she 
seemed  to  realize  what  had  befallen  her.  The  room  fright- 
ened her  by  its  dreary,  cheerless  aspect;  she  had  not 
known  before  how  much  of  its  cheerfulness  and  brightness 
was  owing  to  Leah.  With  passionate  love  and  bitter  tears 
she  kissed  the  pillow  on  which  Leah's  head  had  rested. 


64  ^  BROKEN-  wedding-ring. 

She  could  understand  how  Leah  was  willing  to  leave  Iw^ 
father,  but  not  how  she  could  leave  her. 

"  I  could  not  have  left  Leah,"  she  said  to  herself.  "  If 
the  choice  had  lain  between  death  and  leaving  Leah,  I 
would  have  died." 

She  wondered  how  she  should  live  through  all  her  life 
without  her  sister.  She  grew  ill  and  faint  when  she  thought 
of  the  oath  she  had  taken.  Even  if  she  met  her  the 
next  day,  she  could  not  speak  of  her ;  she  had  gone  out  of 
her  life  forever ;  and,  as  she  thought  of  this,  no  foreshad- 
owing came  to  her  of  the  time  when  she  and  her  sister 
would  cross  each  other's  path  in  the  strangest  of  fashions. 
No  sleep  came  to  the  unhappy  child  that  night.  If  for  a. 
few  moments  she  forgot  herself,  she  woke  with  a  cry  for 
Leah  on  her  lips. 

Martin  Ray  did  not  remain  long  in  that  house.  He  said 
nothing,  but  the  chill  and  desolation  of  the  rooms  once 
brightened  by  his  daughter's  beautiful  presence  were  too 
much  for  him  ;  he  could  not  endure  the  place.  She  had 
gone  from  his  life  altogether,  but  he  found  to  his  surprise 
that  he  could  not  root  her  from  his  heart  and  thoughts,  as 
he  had  intended  to  do.  Just  then  his  career  was  almost 
ended  in  Manchester.  He  had  lectured  and  taught ;  he 
had  been  the  cause  of  several  disturbances,  he  had  longed 
that  the  Government  would  prosecute  him  and  make  a 
martyr  of  him,  but  the  Government  had  declined  so  to  dig- 
nify him.  There  was  really  a  reason  why  he  should  seek 
•'  fresh  fields  and  pastures  new." 

Hettie  would  of  course  go  with  him.  When  he  spoke  to 
her,  he  found  that  the  idea  of  leaving  Manchester  was 
most  pleasant  to  her.  She  did  not  think  that  anything  in 
life  could  ever  make  her  happy  again,  but  it  would  be,  at 
least,  some  little  relief  to  be  away  from  the  place  that  was 
haunted  by  the  memory  of  the  sister  she  would  in  all  prol> 
ability  never  see  again. 


THE  BROKEN  WEDDING  RING.  65 

So  Martin  Ray  left  Manchester.  He  lived  successively 
in  Liverpool,  in  Sheffield,  and  in  many  of  the  large  towns 
which  are  centres  of  manufacturing  industry.  There  his 
fortunes  wavered ;  sometimes  he  was  called  Martin  Ray 
the  patriot,  and  at  others  he  was  sneered  at  as  an  agitator. 
So  the  years  passed,  and  he  saw  the  beautiful  face  of  his 
child  no  more.  And  the  sisters  who  had  lived  together, 
who  had  loved  each  other  so  veil,  who  had  never  been 
parted  for  an  hour,  drifted  further  from  each  other  every 
day,  never  to  meet  until  the  lines  of  their  lives  had  crossed 
again,  and  the  real  tragedy  of  their  womanhood  haci 
begun. 


66  THE  BROKEN  WEDDINCr-RINQ, 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Very  few  soldiers  attain  military  honors  so  early  as  Gen- 
eral Sir  Arthur  Hatton,  K.C.B.  One  thing  was  certain,  he 
was  born  a  military  genius,  as  some  men  are  born  poets  and 
others  painters.  He  had  been  a  soldier  in  heart  from  his 
earliest  childhood — from  the  day  he  first  saw  a  Line  regi- 
ment pass  through  the  streets  and  heard  the  band  playing 
**  Rule,  Britannia,"  the  sound  of  which  raised  a  flame  in 
his  heart  that  was  never  extinguished. 

*'  I  shall  be  a  soldier,  father ! "  he  cried  out  to  Amos 
Hatton. 

"  You  shall  if  you  wish  it,"  replied  the  old  lawyer.  And 
from  that  day  the  lad's  vocation  was  considered  a  settled 
thing. 

It  was  his  sole  delight.  He  went  through  the  prelimi- 
naries with  honor ;  he  studied  hard  ;  it  was  prophesied  of 
him,  by  those  in  authority,  that  he  would  prove  to  be  a 
genius,  an  honor  to  the  service ;  and  the  country,  they  told 
him,  wanted  such  men. 

He  was  little  more  than  a  boy  when  he  obtained  a  com* 
mission  in  the  army,  and  the  young  ensign  started  with 
every  prospect  in  life  bright  before  him. 

Fortune  smiled  upon  him.  Before  he  had  been  very 
long  in  the  service,  his  regiment,  the  Queen's  Own  Ran- 
gers, was  ordered  to  the  Punjaub.  He  was  appointed  to 
some  small  military  command,  one  that  required  tact, 
courage,  and  skill.  In  a  few  years  he  had  made  his  name 
famous.  When  the  Queen's  Own  Rangers  went  home,  he 
remained,  and  a  post  of  greater  importance  was  given  to 
him.  After  a  time  he  distinguished  himself  still  further, 
and  the  Government  \kr.i>  aot  slow  to  reward  his  services. 


THE  BROKEN  WEDDTNG-RING.  67 

He  was  made  a  general  after  a  brilliant  action  in  which 
he  had  shown  great  personal  valor  and  had  saved  the 
troops  from  a  crushing  disaster.  There  was  not  a  man 
on  the  field  who  would  not  have  risked  his  life  for  the 
brave  commander  who  was  no  carpet  knight ;  for  he  did 
not  show  others  the  way  to  victory,  yet  shirk  all  danger 
himself.  His  bronzed  handsome  face  and  tall  figure  were 
always  seen  in  front,  always  in  the  midst  of  peril,  always 
meeting  death  face  to  face.  He  was  the  type  of  officer 
whom  men  follow  blindly  even  to  certain  destruction. 

By  his  courage  and  gallantry  he  rendered  a  great  service 
to  the  Viceroy  of  India,  and  in  return  he  received  the 
Order  of  the  Star  of  India.  The  motto  of  the  Order  was 
one  engraven  on  his  heart — "  Heaven's  light  our  guide." 
Slowly  but  surely  he  mounted  the  ladder  which  leads  to 
fame.  He  was  made  a  baronet,  and  soon  afterwards  the 
Order  of  the  Bath  was  given  to  him.  He  was  a  thorough 
soldier ;  he  lived  for  his  profession  alone. 

He  had  found  time,  in  the  midst  of  all  his  occupations, 
to  marry — though  General  Sir  Arthur  Hatton  never  made 
much  pretense  of  having  married  for  love — a  rich  widow. 
Lady  Bourgoyne,  whose  husband  had  been  one  of  the 
wealthiest  men  in  India,  and  had  left  the  whole  of  his  for- 
tune to  her.  The  fair  widow  herself  had  given  the  first 
sign  of  preference  for  Sir  Arthur.  She  admired  the  gallant 
soldier,  with  his  bronzed,  handsome  face  and  fine  figure. 
She  gave  him  to  understand,  in  a  royal  kind  of  fashion, 
that  she  liked  him. 

Hitherto  Sir  Arthur  had  not  given  a  thought  to  love  or 
marriage.  He  looked  upon  matrimony  as  something  not 
quite  fitted  for  a  soldier.  He  wondered  a  little  when  he 
heard  of  officers  and  privates  marrying.  He  wondered  yet 
a  little  more  when  he  thought  of  all  that  the  wives  and 
mothers  had  to  s'^fTer. 

He  was  amused,  rather  than  otherwise,  when  Lady  Bour 


68  -4  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

goyne  commenced  to  woo  him.  When  she  first  began  to 
distinguish  him  by  her  attentions,  he  was  timid  and  half 
shy,  wholly  amused,  and  quite  ignorant  of  what  to  do  or 
say.  Lady  Bourgoyne  managed  it  all  for  him.  Consider- 
ing that  she  was  at  that  time  one  of  the  most  popular  and 
wealthy  women  in  the  whole  presidency,  her  admiration 
and  evident  liking  for  the  general  created  no  small  sensa- 
tion. She  .  married  him  at  last ;  for,  oddly  enough,  in 
speaking  of  the  wedding,  no  one  ever  remarked  that  the 
general  had  married  Lady  Bourgoyne. 

They  lived  together  happily  for  many  years.  Lady 
Hatton  was  one  of  the  best  and  most  submissive  of  wives. 
She  simply  adored  her  husband,  and  lived  for  his  happi- 
ness. He  seemed  to  be  always  more  or  less  surprised  at 
himself  for  having  married.  When  Lady  Hatton  died,  she 
left  the  whole  of  her  enormous  fortune  to  him.  Sir  Arthur 
missed  his  wife ;  he  mourned  for  her  with  all  sincerity ; 
and  he  lived  on  without  knowing  that  his  heart  was  still 
sleeping,  and  had  never  awakened  to  the  least  knowledge 
of  true  love. 

Before  his  marriage  he  had  received  the  letter  written 
by  his  sister,  and  it  had  touched  him  dceeply.  He  had 
loved  little  Doiis  very  dearly.  She  was  but  a  child  when 
he  had  left  home,  yet  he  retained  the  liveliest  and  most  lov- 
ing memory  of  her.  He  said  to  himself,  when  he  read  the 
letter,  that  he  would  most  certainly  attend  to  her  wishes. 
But  it  was  a  difficult  thing  to  do.  He  was  thousands  of 
miles  from  home,  and  his  time  was  incessantly  occupied. 
He  delayed  from  day  to  day,  not  quite  knowing  what  to 
do,  until  at  last  the  letter  was  put  away  with  other  papers 
and  forgotten.  Then  came  the  busiest  part  of  his  life  .^ 
he  married,  lost  his  wife,  doubled  his  fortune,  and  resolved 
upon  returning  to  England.  He  resigned  his  command, 
gathered  together  his  wealth,  and,  to  the  great  regret  of 
all  who  knew  him,  sailed  for  his  native  land.    He  had 


4  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  69 

spent  the  best  part  of  his  life  in  India,  he  had  accumulated 
much  treasure,  and  he  determined  that  he  would  spend 
the  few  last  years  of  his  life  in  ease  and  enjoyment. 
Under  the  heat  of  the  tropical  sun,  and  amid  the  discora 
forts  of  a  tropical  clime,  this  had  been  his  one  idea,  the 
one  dream  in  which  he  had  revelled — to  return  home,  and 
in  the  heart  of  his  native  land,  fairer  to  him  than  any 
other  on  which  the  sun  shone,  make  for  himself  a  perfect 
home. 

Everything  succeeded  as  he  wished.  The  princely 
mansion  and  estate  of  Brentwood  were  in  the  market,  and 
tl*e  general's  solicitors  declared  that  he  could  not  do  better 
than  purchase  them.  He  did  so ;  the  grand  old  house, 
with  its  magnificent  grounds,  its  woods,  and  streams,  became 
his,  and  he  was  proud  of  it.  Brentwood  stands  in  the 
beautifully-wooded  and  picturesque  county  of  Warwick- 
shire ;  the  lovely  Avon  runs  near  it,  great  hills  crowned 
with  trees  stretch  out  on  either  side.  Brentwood  Hall  and 
Brentwood  Park  have  been  famous  in  picture  and  song  for 
many  generations.  The  general  was  pleased  with  his  new 
iesignation — "  Sir  Arthur  Hatton  of  Brentwood.'* 

Many  people  wondered  if  he  would  marry  again  ;  but 
the  geaeral  had  no  such  intention.  He  knew  nothing  of 
house-furnishing  or  decoration ;  but  he  gave  carte-blanche 
to  Messrs.  Carson  and  Son,  the  famous  upholsterers,  the 
result  of  which  was  that  he  had  one  of  the  most  magnifi- 
cently furnished  houses  in  England.  He  had  a  correspond- 
ingly heavy  bill  to  pay.  He  looked  at  it,  sighed,  won- 
dered what  his  wife  would  have  thought  of  it,  drew  a  check 
for  it,  and  forgot  it.  When  the  Hall  was  ready  for  occu- 
pation, he  took  up  his  residence  there.  All  his  papers 
were  sent  to  him,  and,  looking  over  them  one  day,  for  the 
purpose  of  arranging  them,  he  found  his  dead  sister's 
letter  that  had  been  hidden  away  for  so  long.    He  re-raad 


^0  -^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.      , 

it  with  a  smothered  cry  of  self-reproach.  He  had  for- 
gotten it  all  these  years. 

He  determined  to  make  amends  at  once.  He  loathed 
the  name  of  Martin  Ray.  Amos  Hatton  had  not  spared 
his  daughter's  husband,  and  the  strength  of  his  hatred  had 
been  imparted  to  his  son.  Sir  Arthur  Hatton  had  the 
utmost  contempt  for  one  whom  in  his  own  mind  he  always 
called  **  the  demagogue  ;  "  but  he  felt  inclined  to  love  and 
adopt  his  sister's  children. 

It  was  by  no  means  a  difficult  matter  to  find  out  Martin 
Ray's  address.  The  general  had  been  struck  at  once  with 
the  proud,  delicate  beauty  of  Leah,  and  the  promise  of 
fair  loveliness  in  Hettie.  It  was  not  strange,  he  reflected ; 
for  his  sister  had  been  beautiful.  He  saw  at  once  that 
there  was  something  wrong  between  Martin  Ray  and  his 
eldest  child.  Her  words  puzzled  him.  "  I  have  been 
praying,"  she  said,  "  for  some  one  to  deliver  me  from  this 
furnace  of  fire,  and  Heaven  has  sent  you."  His  heart 
went  out  to  the  beautiful  trembling  girl  who  had  come  to 
him,  and  chosen  life  with  him.  She  should  be  to  him 
— so  he  swore — as  his  own  daughter,  his  heiress,  the  great 
comfort  of  his  life.  He  loved  her,  and  was  grateful  to  her. 
Yet  he  admired  Hettie  ;  the  memory  of  her,  as  she  stood 
with  her  arms  clasped  around  her  father's  neck,  her  exquisite 
tenderness,  her  calm  decision,  were  never  forgotten  by  him. 
Both  girls  had  noble  natures  ;  of  that  he  felt  sure.  But, 
as  he  drove  away  from  the  house  with  his  beautiful  niece 
in  his  care,  he  asked  himself  which  had  the  nobler  nature 
of  the  two — Leah,  whose  whole  soul  had  rebelled  against 
the  teaching,  belief,  the  life  of  her  father,  who  loathed  the 
task  he  had  wished  her  to  perform,  who  had  been  thankful 
to  escape,  even  at  the  risk  of  never  seeing  father  or  sister 
again ;  or  Hettie,  whose  loyal,  tender  heart  had  clung 
more  closely  to  the  father  whom  Leah  abandoned. 

Which  was  the  nobler  of  the  two  he  could  not  decide. 


A  PROKEl/  WEDDING-RWG.  y. 

He  admired  the  beautiful,  proud  girl  who  would  sooner 
sacrifice  the  loves  of  her  life  than  become  what  her  father 
wished  to  make  her;  he  admired  her  rebellion  against 
what  she  believed  to  be  mean,  false,  and  unholy.  He  ad- 
mired the  faithful  love  with  which  the  younger  girl  clung 
to  her  father.  He  could  not  tell  which  he  thought  the 
nobler,  which  he  admired  the  more  ?  but  one  thing  was 
certain — he  loved  Leah  best.  Leah  had  chosen  him  and 
the  life  he  was  ready  to  offer  her;  Hettie  had  refused 
both,  therefore  he  would  always  love  Leah  best.  Still  his 
heart  yearned  over  the  girl  who  had  her  mother's  blue 
eyes. 

"  I  must  be  content,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  After  all 
it  is  fair.  I  have  one  child,  he  has  the  other.  Even  Doris 
herself  would  scarcely  have  cared  to  see  him  deprived  of 
both." 


ga  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING* 


CHAPTER  X. 

General  Sir  Arthur  Hatton  and  his  niece  were  soon 
settled  in  their  new  and  magnificent  home.  To  Leah  it 
seemed  as  though  she  must  be  in  the  whirl  of  a  dream. 
Her  own  story  was  to  her  very  much  like  one  of  the  fairy 
tales  that  had  delighted  her  when  she  was  a  child.  "  I  am 
a  real  Cinderella,"  she  said  to  herself,  with  a  smile.  But  in 
no  way  did  she  resemble  that  humble  little  maiden.  She 
was  proud  by  instinct  and  by  nature.  She  was  proud  of 
her  mother's  name  of  Hatton,  of  the  good  old  family  from 
which  her  mother  came,  of  the  blood  that  ran  in  her  veins 
from  her  mother's  side.  She  was  proud  of  being  true  to 
herself,  of  being  loyal  to  what  she  believed  to  be  right 
principles. 

The  compact  made  between  her  uncle  and  herself  had 
not  been  broken.  The  name  of  Ray  had  been  given  up 
and  she  had  adopted  that  of  Hatton. 

"  We  will  have  no  false  pretenses,"  the  general  had 
said.  "  You  are  my  adopted  daughter  and  heiress,  but 
every  one  must  know  that  you  are  my  niece.  I  am  in  the 
place  of  your  father ;  but  while  one  lives  who .  claims  the 
title  I  should  not  like  to  usurp  it.  You  are  my  nie6e,  Leah 
Hatton  ;  and,  as  we  are  discussing  the  subject  for  the  last 
time,  let  me  say  that,  should  you  ever  wish  to  marry,  I  will 
myself  tell  to  your  future  husband  what  I  think  he  ought 
to  know  of  your  history.     You  must  not  do  it  yourself." 

After  that,  not  another  word  was  spoken  between  them 
on  the  subject. 

People  were  not  curious.  It  was  sufficient  to  know 
that  Leah  Hatton  was  the  abopted  daughter  and  heiress 
of  General  Sir  Arthur  Hatton,  K.  C.  B.,  one  of  the  wealthiest 
and  most  famous  men  in  England, 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  73 

Leah  was  troubled  at  first  when  she  saw  the  magnifi- 
cence of  the  home  that  was  to  be  hers.  She  imparted  her 
fears  frankly  enough  to  the  general,  but  he  smiled  at 
them. 

"  My  dear  Leah,"  he  said,  "  no  woman  can  be  more 
than  a  lady — can  be  more  than  refined,  well-bred,  graceful 
and  accomplished.  You  are  all  those.  You  will  soon  be 
accustomed  to  the  new  life  ;  you  will  adapt  yourself  to  it 
naturally.  If  there  is  any  little  deficiency  in  your  knowl- 
edge of  society  matters,  you  will  meet  it  by  studying  attec- 
tively  the  habits  and  manners  of  those  about  you." 

From  the  first  moment  she  entered  his  house  she  w,as, 
he  told  her,  entirely  mistress  of  it — there  was  no  appeal 
against  her  authority.  Most  girls  of  her  age  would  have 
been  too  young  for  such  a  position ;  but  Leah  was  older 
than  her  years.  It  was  a  marvellous  change  for  her,  from 
the  small,  gloomy  house  in  a  dull  street  to  that  grand  old 
mansion,  where  everything  bespoke  the  pride  of  wealth 
and  luxury.  Some  young  heads  would  have  been  turned 
by  it.  Hers  was  not.  She  fell  into  the  position  so  natur- 
ally that  no  one  would  have  dreamed  that  she  had  ever 
held  any  other.  Miss  Hatton  of  Brentv/ood  was  quite  a 
different  girl  from  Leah  Ray. 

Sir  Arthur  had  behaved  in  the  most  munificent  man- 
ner. He  had  taken  Leah  first  to  London.  It  was  a 
novelty  for  him  to  have  the  charge  of  a  young  and  beauti- 
ful girl. 

"  You  must  have  everything  perfect,  my  dear  niece/' 
he  said,  "  before  you  go  to  Brentwood.  The  eyes  of  ser- 
vants are  so  quick  to  notice  deficiencies.  We  must  have 
a  wardrobe,  a  case  of  jewels,  and  a  lady's-maid  before  we 
go  home." 

Leah  purchased  just  what  she  would,  and  Sir  Arthur 
presented  her  with  a  superb  suite  of  rubies. 

"  I  have  whole  boxes  of  precious  stones  at  Brentwood,'* 


y4  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

he  said ;  "  and  you  must  choose  from  them,  Leah.  Most 
of  them  were  spoils,  I  believe,  once  in  possession  of  Sir 
George  Bourgoyne.     My  wife  left  them  all  to  me." 

"  That  has  a  magnificent  sound,  uncle,"  she  returned 
— "  *  whole  boxes  of  precious  stones.'  " 

"  My  dear,"  he  said,  simply,  "  it  is  true.  I  could  not 
enumerate  the  treasures  that  my  wife  possessed.  I  do  not 
care  about  them  myself.  I  dislike  the  sacking  of  cities, 
but  Sir  George  did  not.  My  wife  had  shawls  worth  any 
money,  jewels  of  every  kind,  the  finest  satins,  the  rarest 
lace.  She  had  embroidery  and  silk,  ornaments  of  gold 
and  of  ivory,  embroideries  o?  sUver  and  of  gold.  I  have 
never  known  what  to  do  with  them,  but  now  I  give  them 
all  to  you." 

"  To  me  "  she  exclaimed — "  all  those  treasures  to  me  ! 
Uncle,  you  must  think  over  it;  perhaps  you  may  want 
them  some  day.     You  might  marry  again." 

"Never,"  replied  the  general,  calmly.  "I  have  the 
greatest  respect  and  veneration  for  all  women ;  but  I  shall 
never  marry  again.'*  He  was  about  to  add  that  he  had 
not  intended  to  marr}^  at  all,  but  he  stopped  himself. 
"  They  are  all  yours,"  he  repeated.  "  They  have  not  been 
unpacked  even  yet ;  but  when  we  reach  Brentwood,  they 
shall  be  put  in  your  possession.  India  was  a  land  of  treas- 
ure, Leah." 

"  My  life  grows  more  like  a  fairy-tale  every  day,"  she 
said  to  herself  ;  and  from  the  depths  of  her  heart  came  a 
great  sigh  that  she  could  not  share  her  treasures  with 
Hettie. 

Sir  Arthur  soon  provided  his  beautiful  young  niece 
with  a  magnificent  wardrobe;  no  marriage  trousseau  pre- 
pared for  a  princess  could  have  been  more  elaborate,  more 
costly.  A  clever,  bright  Parisian  maid  was  also  found ; 
and  Sir  Arthur  purchased  for  Leah  one  of  the  handsomest 


A  BROKEJV  WEDDING-RINC,  75 

hacks  in  London,  engaging  at  the  same  time  a  staid  and 
dapper  groom. 

When  all  was  ready  and  provided,  they  went  down 
together  to  take  possession  of  Brentwood.  It  was  a  bright 
beautiful  day,  and  the  park  looked  lovely  ;  the  grand  olc) 
hall,  in  the  dazzling  sunlight,  was  strikingly  picturesque. 

"  Is  this  Brentwood,  uncle  ? "  asked  Leah,  her  facf 
growing  pale  with  emotion  as  she  gazed  upon  it. 

"  Yes,  my  dear ;  and  it  is  a  fitting  home  for  the  Hatton* 
It  is  mine  now ;  it  will  be  yours  when  I  die." 

**  DTine  ! "  she  exclaimed ;  and  a  solemn  sense  of  heavy 
responsibility  came  over  her. 

*'  Yes,  yours,  Leah  ;  I  have  no  relatives  but  you." 

"  It  must  be  a  fairy-tale,"  she  said  to  herself ;  but  her 
heart  beat  fast  when  her  uncle  led  her  into  the  magnificent 
abode  that  was  to  be  her  own  in  the  years  to  come. 

Though  so  grand  and  stately,  there  was  something 
home-like  about  Brentwood.  The  rooms  were  all  light 
and  lofty,  full  of  sunshine,  and  from  most  of  them  thete  was 
an  uninterrupted  view  of  the  green  undulating  park  ;  the 
corridors  were  long  and  spacious.  In  the  whole  mansion 
there  was  not  one  gloomy  spot ;  the  windows  were  large, 
the  perfumed  breeze  from  the  gardens  seemed  to  sweep 
through  the  place.  It  was  very  ancient — rich  in  grand 
oak  carvings,  priceless  oak-panelled  walls  with  evevy  kind 
of  pretty  nook  and  corner.  Just  where  one  least  expected 
it  was  some  bright  little  room,  some  flowery  corner,  some 
deep  bay-window  overlooking  beautiful  scenery,  some 
pretty  quiet  nook  seemingly  made  for  tete-a-tetes.  There 
were  a  large  picture-gallery  and  a  fine  ballroom 

"  We  shall  be  happy  here,  Leah,"  said  the  general ; 
**  we  have  everything  to  make  us  so.'* 

And  she  smiled  in  the  fulness  of  content.  But  whe^i 
Bhe  had  taken  possession  of  the  suite  of  rooms  prepared 
for  her,  when  the  magnificent  dresses  had  been  put  away 


^6  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING'RmG. 

in  the  wardrobes  made  of  cedar-wood,  v^hen  the  superb 
store  of  Indian  treasures  had  all  been  examined,  when  she 
had  grown  accustomed  to  the  luxury  of  a  lady's  maid  and 
a  groom,  of  horses  and  carriages,  her  heart  turned  with  a 
great  and  wistful  yearning  to  Hettie.  She  had  loved  her; 
and  that  love,  checked  by  the  rebellion  against  her  fate, 
returned  with  double  force  now  that  her  fear  and  dread 
were  gone.  To  her  proud,  sensitive  mind,  it  appeared  a 
species  of  cowardice  to  leave  her  sister  to  a  fate  she  could 
not  bear  herself.  Yet  Hettie  had  elected  to  be  so  left ; 
she  would  not  come  away  with  her.  Her  remembrance  of 
that  loving  sister  was  the  only  drawback  to  her  perfect 
happiness. 

She  was  alone  in  the  cozy  morning-room  one  morning 
when  Sir  Arthur  came  to  seek  her,  his  face  full  of  de^'o^ht. 

"  Leah,"  he  cried,  "  can  you  guess  what  strange,  good 
fortune  has  happened  to  me  ?  " 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  the  brightest  of  smiles. 

"  How  can  I  guess,  uncle,  when  you  have  already  all 
the  good  fortune  in  the  world  ? " 

"  I  have  my  share  of  it,  Leah ;  that  is  tjuite  certain. 
But  this  piece  of  good  luck  is  something  quite  unlocked 
for  and  unexpected.  You  have  heard  me  speak  of  a  very 
dear  friend  I  had  many  years  ago — a  young  captain  in  our 
regiment — Harry  Egremont  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Leah,  who  delighted  in  nothing  so  much 
as  in  listening  to  her  uncle's  stories  of  Indian  life.  "  Yes, 
I  remember  the  name." 

*'  He  was  one  of  the  finest  fellows  in  the  world,"  cried 
the  general — "  so  simple,  generous,  brave,  and  noble !  I 
have  lost  sight  of  him  for  many  years.  I  hear  that  he  has 
unexpectedly  succeeded  to  a  peerage.  I  find  that  he  is 
Duke  of  Rosedene,  and  that  he  lives  only  seven  miles  from 
here.  His  estate  and  mine  run  parallel  for  miles  •  and 
I  am  so  delighted,  Leah." 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  yy 

"  So  am  I,  for  your  sake,"  she  said.  **  What  is  the 
place  called  ? " 

"  Craig,"  he  replied.  "  Do  you  remember  a  picture  in 
the  gallery  of  a  grand  old  gray  mansion  standing  in  the 
midst  of  a  magnificent  woodland,  with  the  sunset  falling 
over  it  ?  That  is  Craig.  The  duke  and  duchess  live  there 
about  three  msmths  in  the  y^ar ;  they  are  generally  in  town 
for  the  season,  and  during  the  rest  of  the  year  they  live  at 
Dene  Abbey,  a  beautiful  place  in  Sussex." 

"  Then  the  duke  is  married  ?  "  said  Leah. 

"  Yes ;  he  married  a  fashionable  beauty,  and  I  hear 
that  she  is  a  very  nice  woman.  I  am  glad  for  your  sake  ; 
she  will  be  such  an  excellent  friend  for  you.  They  are  at 
Craig.  I  shall  go  over  to-morrow,  and  then  you  will  see 
that  all  your  difficulties  will  be  ended." 

On  the  morrow  he  carried  out  his  resolve,  and  received 
a  welcome  that  made  his  heart  glad.  The  Duke  of  Rose- 
dene  was  delighted  to  see  him  ;  he  overwhelmed  him  with 
the  warmth  of  his  greeting. 

"  To  think,"  he  cried  "  that  I  should  have  you  for  a 
neighbor!  It  is  the  greatest  piece  of  good  fortune  that 
could  have  fallen  to  my  lot." 

Sir  Arthur  c^ked  for  the  duchess,  who  received  hn.. 
with  a  pleasant,  gracious  manner  that  charmed  him.  To 
her,  in  his  simple  fashion,  he  opened  his  heart  about  his 
niece ;  he  told  her  how  beautiful  she  was,  and  that  he  had 
adopted  her  as  his  daughter  and  heiress.  The  duchess 
was  too  much  ^f  a  woman  of  the  world  to  express  any  sur- 
prise ;  but,  remembering  his  vast  wealth,  she  knew  that  his 
heiress  would  at  once  become  a  person  of  distinction. 

"It  is  my  niece,"  h3  said,  "  That  I  want  to  interest 
your  grace  in.  As  my  old  friend's  wife,  you  will  do  me  a 
kindness  for  his  sake,  I  am  sure." 

"  I  will  do  it  for  your  own,"  responded  the  duchess, 
kindly ;  her  heart  warmed  to  the  brave  soidier  wno  tnought 


^8  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

SO  little  of  himself  and  so  much  of  others.     "  I  will  do  all 
that  you  wish  for  your  niece,"  she  continued  ;  "  and,  as  a 
preliminary,  I  will  drive  over  to  see  her  to-morrow." 
And,  much  delighted,  the  general  took  his  leave. 


CHAPTER  XL 

The  Duchess  of  Rosedene  was  fastidious  even  to  a 
fault.  Public  opinion  was  often  led  by  her.  If  she  ap- 
proved of  anything,  it  was  sure  to  be  perfection ;  if  she 
disapproved,  it  was  generally  found  that  she  was  right. 
To  know  her  was  to  have  the  right  of  entree  into  the  most 
exclusive  circles ;  not  to  know  her  was  in  itself  a  confes- 
sion of  inferiority.  Tabe  on  her  visiting-list,  to  attend  her 
"  at  homes,"  to  be  asked  to  her  balls — the  best  given  in 
London — were  honors  for  which  every  belle,  every  fash- 
ionable woman  sighed.  She  was  the  only  child  and 
wealthy  heiress  of  an  earl,  and  her  marriage  with  the  Duke 
of  Rosedene  had  been  dictated  by  pure  affection  alone. 

They  were  exceedingly  happy;  but  there  was  one 
cause  for  disappointment — they  had  no  children.  This 
was  the  one  cloud  in  their  bright  sky.  At  the  duke's  death 
his  estate  and  titles  must  pass  into  strange  hands.  It  was 
a  grievous  trouble  to  them.  In  order  to  forget  it,  the  duke 
flung  himself  into  the  whirl  of  politics  and  the  duchess 
into  all  the  gayeties  of  the  world.  She  was  one  of  the 
most  popular  and  most  highly  esteemed  women  in  England. 
Her  name  figured  everywhere — in  lists  of  charities,  in 
every  work  of  benevolence.  She  was  the  patroness  of  in- 
numerable bazars,  fancy  fairs,  and  other  fashionable 
methods  of  doing  good.  To  be  chaperoned  by  the 
Duchess  of  Rosedene  was  a  guarantee  of  success.     But  she 


THE  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  ^g 

was  fastidious,  and  not  easily  pleased.  She  had  g>v^ii  a 
promise,  charmed  by  the  simple  earnestness  of  the  general ; 
but  she  wondered  if  she  had  done  a  wise  thing.  With  an 
anxious  face  she  went  to  her  husband. 

"  The  Hattons  are  a  good  family,  are  they  not  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"  One  of  the  oldest  and  best  in  England,"  replied  the 
duke.  "  Greatly  fallen  off,  I  believe ;  but  one  may  still 
be  proud  of  knowing  them." 

"  I  wish,"  said  the  duchess,  "  that  I  had  seeu  the  girl 
before  I  made  the  promise." 

"  I  am  quite  sure  you  need  not  fear,"  rejoined  the 
duke.  "  If  she  is  like  the  rest  of  the  Hattons,  she  will  be 
all  right." 

But  the  duchess  declared  that  she  was  a  little  nervous. 

"I  would  do  .anything,"  she  said,  "for  your  friend.  I 
like  him  immensely.  But  I  have  promised  so  much  for 
the  girl — to  chaperon  her,  to  present  her ;  and,  if  she 
should  not  be  just  what  I  like,  it  will  be  awkward." 

The  duke  assured  her  that  she  might  rest  content. 

The  next  day  she  went  over  to  Brentwood.  Any  fe'ar 
she  might  have  had  was  dissipated  by  the  sight  of  the  face 
and  figure  of  Leah.  Her  manner  was  simply  perfection. 
She  showed  no  over  delight,  yet  she  was  most  attentive  and 
polite  to  the  duchess.  She  allowed  her  to  see  that  she  felt  her 
visit  to  be  a  great  honor,  yet  that,  while  she  acknowledged 
it,  she  was  in  no  way  unduly  elated  over  it.  The  duchess 
was  charmed  with  her.  She  thought  Leah  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  and  graceful  girls  she  had  ever  seen.  She 
was  struck  by  her  face.  There  was  more  than  mere 
beauty ;  passion,  poetry,  and  eloquence  were  in  it.  She 
marvelled  at  Leah's  grace,  her  good  breeding,  her  accom- 
plishments, and  her  refined  education.  She  felt  there  was 
none  more  fair,  graceful,  or  better  fitted  to  take  a  high 
position  in  society.     "  I  shall  be  proud  of  her,"  thought 


$0  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

the  duchess ;  "  it  will  be  difficult  to  surpass  her."  It 
was  not  often  that  her  Grace  of  Rosedene  deigned  to  cha- 
peron any  young  lady ;  but  when  she  did  it  was  done 
effectually. 

She  watched  Leah  with  keen  eyes.  Every  gesture, 
every  pose,  every  word  pleased  her.  "  She  should  marry 
well,"  thought  the  duchess.  "  There  will  not  be  another 
face  like  hers  next  season."  Yet,  beautiful  as  it  was,  there 
was  something  in  its  expression  which  the  duchess  did  not 
quite  understand — the  dawn  of  restless  passion,  the  long- 
ing that  could  never  be  gratified,  the  story  that  could 
never  be  told.  "  She  is  not  like  other  girls,"  thought  her 
grace  ;  "  what  satisfies  them  will  never  content  her.  There 
is  something  like  a  longing  for  the  infinite  in  those  dark  eyes 
of  hers."  And  in  that  moment,  seated  in  Sir  Arthur's 
luxurious  drawing-room,  surrounded  by  everything  most 
costly  and  lovely,  looking  into  the  fair,  proud  face  of  Leah 
Hatton,  there  came  to  the  duchess  a  foreboding  that  made 
her  grow  faint  and  pale  with  fear. 

They  were  delighted  with  each  other.  The  duchess 
pressed  Leah  to  go  over  to  Craig  on  the  following  day. 

"I  am  sorry,"  she  remarked,  "that  we  are  not  re- 
maining longer  in  the  neighborhood  ;  but,  go  where  we  will, 
you  must  remember  our  compact.  We  are  to  be  friends 
always.  Do  not  forget  that  I  am  to  be  your  *  social  god- 
mother,* and  that  next  season  I  am  to  present  you.  I 
predict  for  you  a  grand  success." 

The  duchess  added  how  delighted  she  would  be  if,  in 
the  winter  months,  Leah  could  join  them  in  a  tiip  she  and 
her  husband  intended  taking  to  Rome. 

That  same  evening  the  duke,  entering  his  v/ife*>  bou- 
doir, found  her  standing  against  the  window,  looking 
thoughtfully  out  on  the  tall,  spreading  trees.  She  did 
not  see  him  or  hear  him,  and  started  violently  when  he 
laid  his  hand  upon  her  shoulder. 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  81 

"  What  are  you  thinking  about,  Muriel  ? "  he  asked. 
**  I  do  not  often  find  you  meditating." 

She  looked  up  at  him  gravely. 

"  I  am  thinking,"  she  said,  "  about  Leah  H?tfon's 
eyes." 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  them  }  "  he  asked,  laughing, 
**  I  saw  nothing  wrong." 

"There  is  nothing  wrong,"  she  replied.  "They  are 
the  most  beautiful  eyes  I  have  ever  seen.  Do  you  remem- 
ber that  superb  heartsease  of  which  Hawkins,  the  gardener, 
was  so  proud .?  It  was  not  black,  but  rather  a  rich  dark  purple 
with  a  gleam  of  gold  in  it.  Her  eyes  are  of  just  such  a  col- 
or. I  thought  of  the  heartsease  the  moment  I  saw  them. 
Yet  it  was  not  the  color,  rare  and  perfect  though  it  be, 
that  struck  me  the  most ;  it  was  the  expression.  I  am 
quite  sure,  Harry,  that  she  will  have  no  common  fate." 

"  My  dear  Muriel,"  said  the  duke,  "  you  are  surely  not 
growing  romantic  ? " 

"  No,  I  am  not ;  but  there  is  something  in  the  expres- 
sion of  the  girl's  eyes — a  passionate  longing ;  I  wonder 
for  what — whether  for  happiness,  for  wealth,  for  honors, 
or  for  love  ? " 

"  Do  you  not  class  happiness  and  love  together  ? "  asked 
the  duke. 

"  Not  in  her  case,  I'm  sure  !  "  cried  the  duchess.  "  If 
ever  that  girl  loves,  it  will  be  with  her  whole  heart ;  and 
you  know  my  belief  on  that  point — any  woman  who  loves 
with  her  whole  heart  suffers  the  direst  pain  with  the  most 
exquisite  bliss.  To  be  really  comfortable  in  this  life,  there 
must  be  no  grand  passions." 

"Perhaps  you  are  right,"  replied  the  duke.  "For 
steady  wear  in  the  long  run,  ours  was  the  best  kind  of 
love,  Muriel." 

"  I  am  sure  of  it,"  she  answered.  "  A  grand  passion 
would  have  killed  me." 


Si  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

"  Yet  you  love  me  with  all  your  heart,  Muriel  ?  *' 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  she  replied.  *•  There  are  women 
and  women,  loves  and  loves.  That  girl,  depend  upon  it, 
Harry,  has  a  power  of  loving  to  which  I  am  thankful  to 
say,  most  women  are  strangers." 

*'  Yet  her  face  is  not  at  all  expressive  of  tenderness/* 
said  the  duke  ;  "  it  tells  rather  of  pride." 

"  It  is  proud,  but  there  is  concentration  in  it.  She  will 
love  but  few ;  and  those  few  she  will  love  well.  I  feel  as 
though  I  had  been  looking  at  the  picture  of  some  beautiful 
queen  of  tragedy,  some  heroine  of  a  grand  poem  ;  I  can- 
not shake  off  the  impression  that  her  face  has  made  upon 
me.  But  she  is  coming  over  to-morrow,  and  then  I  can 
st'idy  her  at  my  ease." 

The  duke  smiled  to  himself ;  it  was  some  time  since 
he  had  seen  his  stately  wife  so  deeply  impressed. 

"  Was  her  mother  a  lady  ? "  asked  the  duchess,  sud- 
denly. 

*'  Yes ;  her  mother  was  Sir  Arthur's  sister.  She  mar- 
ried, I  believe,  beneath  her." 

"  Then  why  is  she  called  Hatton  ?  "  asked  her  grace. 

**  Because  Sir  Arthur  has  adopted  her.  It  is  perfectly 
natural  that  she  should  take  his  name."  And  the  duchess 
never  gave  the  subject  a  second  thought. 

Sir  Arthur  had  been  equally  pleased.  He  had  watched 
the  duchess'  face  when  she  first  saw  Leah,  and  noted  the 
flash  of  delighted  admiration. 

"  Your  niece  is  most  charming,"  she  had  said  to  him  in 
her  gracious  way.     "  Bring  her  over  to  Craig,  to-morrow." 

He  congratulated  Leah ;  and  she  smiled  with  wonder- 
ing eyes.     "  It  must  be  a  fairy-tale,  uncle,"  she  said.     "  A 

few  weeks  since,  Het "     She  stopped  abruptly,  for 

she  was  on  the  point  of  pronouncing  the  name  she  had 
promised  never  to  mention.  The  very  effort  to  check  her- 
g^  blanched  her  face  and  lips.    The  general  appeared 


^A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  83 

not  to  notice  it.  "  But  a  few  weeks  since,"  she  said,  "  I 
had  but  one  pair  of  gloves — and  they  were  so  mended  and 
darned  that  I  was  ashamed  to  wear  them — and  not  five 
shillings  of  my  own  in  the  wide  world.  Now  I  am  miss- 
tress  of  Brentwood,  your  adopted  child  and  heiress ;  I 
have  a  fortune  in  the  treasures  you  have  given  me ;  a 
duchess  takes  me  by  the  hand  and  asks  me  to  be  her 
friend  ;  I  am  promised  all  that  this  world  can  give  me — 
the  loveliest,  brightest,  happiest  life.  Now,  is  it  not  like  a 
fairy-tale  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  looking  at  her  face. 

He  wondered  if,  in  the  dawn  of  that  rich,  passionate 
loveliness,  there  was  the  beginning  of  sorrow  or  of  joy. 

In  the  course  of  a  few  weeks,  Leah  was  quite  at  home 
amidst  the  luxury  and  magnificence  of  Brentwood.  As 
time  passed  on,  the  memories  of  the  old  painful  life  grew 
weak  ;  the  love  of  her  fair  young  sister  was  the  strongest  pas- 
sion that  remained.  She  thought  of  her  father  with  a  dread 
that  was  strangely  mingled  with  regret  and  love  ;  but  she 
thought  of  him  as  little  as  possible  ;  her  heart  and  her  rea- 
son vi^re  at  war  with  each  other  over  him.  She  was  grate- 
ful for  her  escape  from  what  she  termed  "  a  furnace  of 
fire." 

She  was  armly  welcomed  at  Craig ;  the  duchess  even 
grew  attached  to  her  ;  and  when,  after  a  gay  autumn  and 
innumerable  shooting-parties,  the  time  for  the  projected 
tour  to  Rome  came,  she  invited  Leah  to  accompany  her. 
At  first  the  general  was  inclined  to  refuse.  He  had  just 
learned,  he  said,  that  he  could  not  live  without  her,  and  it 
was  cruel  to  wish  to  take  her  away.  But  when  the 
duchess  showed  him  all  the  advantages  to  be  gained,  he 
yielded  at  once. 

"  You  have  asked  me  to  complete  your  niece*s  educa- 
tion," she  said  ;  "  in  no  way  can  it  be  done  better  than  by 
taking  her  abroad.    A  few  weeks  with  me  in  Paris  and.  in 


34  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING'RlNCf* 

Rome  will  change  her  altogether  ;  she  will  be  a  different 
girl." 

He  fixed  his  eyes  lovingly  on  Leah, 

"  Do  you  think  it  well  to  change  her?"  he  asked,  slow- 
ly.    "  She  seems  to  me  perfect." 

"  If  you  intend  to  make  her  a  woman  of  the  world,  she 
must  change  in  some  respects,"  said  the  duchess,  a  little 
impatiently.  "  Leave  her  to  me,  Sir  Arthur;  I  will 
promise  that  you  shall  be  satisfied  with  the  result." 

And  after  that  Sir  Arthur  offered  no  further  opposi- 
tion. 


CHAPTER  Xn. 

The  Duchess  of  Rosedene  was  detained  for  a  consider- 
able time  on  the  Continent  by  a  severe  illness  of  her  hus- 
band, and  in  reply  to  her  anxious  entreaties  the  general 
allowed  his  beautiful  niece  to  remain  with  her.  Although 
his  heart  yearned  for  her,  and  his  eyes  longed  once  more 
to  behold  her,  he  knew  that  the  care  and  training  which 
the  duchess  could  bestow  were  invaluable,  and  were  such 
as  he  could  not  have  found  elsewhere.  He  was  content  to 
wait. 

During  Leah's  absence  he  purchased  a  magnificent 
mansion  in  Belgravia,  to  which,  in  loving  memory  of  his 
native  town,  he  gave  the  name  of  Harbury  House.  The 
decorations  were  so  magnificent,  the  furniture  was  so  ele- 
gant and  costly,  that  public  attention  was  drawn  to  the 
house,  and  it  soon  became  known  that  Sir  Arthur  had 
made  this  purchase  for  his  adopted  niece  and  heiress,  who 
was  now  in  Italy  with  the  Duchess  of  Rosedene,  and  who 
was — so  rumor  said — as  beautiful  as  a  vision. 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  85 

People  looked  forward  with  interest  to  the  time  when 
the  brilliant  young  beauty  should  be  presented  and  take 
her  place  among  them.  It  was  a  pity,  certain  spinsters 
and  widows  declared,  that  with  such  vast  wealth  and  so 
^  many  places  to  keep  up.  Sir  Arthur  did  not  marry  himself ; 
his  beautiful  young  niece  would  have  some  one  to  look 
after  then.  But  the  keen  blue  eyes  of  General  Sir  Arthur 
Hatton  were  never  to  look  on  any  woman  with  love, 

The  duke's  health  having  been  quite  restored,  the 
duchess  had  arranged  that  the  travelling  party  should  return 
to  London  at  once.  It  was  then  the  very  end  of .  April, 
and  the  season  had  begun.  A  drawing-room  had  been 
held,  at  which  some  fair  young  faces  had  been  seen  ;  but  she 
knew  that  none  could  have  equalled  that  of  Leah  Hatton. 

The  duke  had  a  grand  old  mansion  named  Park  View 
close  to  Hyde  Park,  while  the  duchess  had  a  villa  which 
she  preferred  to  any  other  resort ;  it  was  called  the  Reach. 
It  was  situated  on  the  Thames,  not  far  from  Kew,  and 
nothing  delighted  her  grace  more  than  to  escape  from  the 
crowd  and  spend  a  few  days  on  the  banks  of  the  river. 

The  duke  and  duchess  went  direct  to  Park  View.  Sir 
Arthur  was  invited  to  meet  them,  and  from  their  house  he 
was  to  take  Leah  home.  He  was  impatient  to  see  her. 
The  duchess  had  told  him  that  she  had  changed  so  com- 
pletely he  would  hardly  recognize  her.  He  longed  to  see 
what  change  had  been  effected ;  to  his  way  of  thinking, 
she  could  not  have  grown  more  beautiful. 

He  stood  in  the  drawing-room  at  Park  View.  At  first 
he  saw  only  the  pictures,  the  gleam  of  white  statues,  the 
harmonious  tints  of  thick,  soft  carpets,  the  brightness  of 
innumerable  flowers,  the  groups  of  sweet  violets  which 
perfumed  the  air ;  then,  standing  before  him,  the  hand- 
some, stately  duchess,  with  white,  jewelled  hands  held  out 
in  greeting  to  him  ;  then,  further  away,  near  a  slender, 
shapely  palm,  he  discerned  a  figure  and  face  so  perfectly 


Se  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

beautiful  that  he  looked  in  amazement.  It  was  his  niece 
Leah.  The  long  absence  had  wonderfully  improved  her. 
He  grew  pale  as  he  went  up  to  her  and  kissed  her  in 
silence,  for  his  emotion  was  too  great  for  words. 

The  duchess  had  been  right  after  all.  Nothing  but 
constant  association  with  an  accomplished  and  refined  wo- 
man of  the  world  could  have  given  such  high-bred  ease  and 
grace  to  her. 

"My  daughter  and  niece,"  he  said,  "you  have  been 
away  little  more  than  a  year,  yet  there  is  a  difference  of 
many  years  in  you." 

*'  Are  you  satisfied  ? "  asked  the  duchess,  softly,  some 
time  afterward,  when  they  found  themselves  alone. 

"  I  should  be  most  ungrateful  were  I  anything  else," 
he  replied.  "  I  can  never  thank  you  enough.  I  must  con- 
fess myself  overwhelmed  with  surprise." 

"  I  do  not  feel  much  inclined  to  let  my  treasure  pass 
out  of  my  hands,"  said  the  duchess,  with  a  smile.  "  If  I 
intrust  her  to  you,  you  must  promise  me  that  she  shall  not 
be  seen  until  the  day  of  the  drawing-room.  I  want  her  to 
take  the  gay  world  by  surprise.  She  will  make  a  sensation 
such  as  we  have  not  had  for  some  time  past.  Do  you  not 
agree  with  me  ? " 

"  With  every  word,"  replied  the  general.  "  I  feel  my- 
self almost  in  awe  in  the  presence  of  such  perfect  and  peer- 
less loveliness." 

"  M^nd,"  said  the  duchess,  laughingly,  "  Leah  must 
make  the  best  match  of  the  season.  I  shall  not  consider 
any  one  under  an  earl  or  duke  presentable.  She  might 
have  been  a  princess  while  we  were  in  Rome,  but  she 
would  not." 

"I  am  glad  of  it,"  he  declared.  "There  are  no  men 
like  Englishmen.  I  hope  she  will  marry — if  she  marries 
at  all — some  one  who  will  be  kind  to  her  and  make  her 
happy." 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  gy 

It  did  not  occur  to  him  to  add,  "  some  one  whom  she 
loves."  Love  had  never  been  a  necessity  of  life  with  the 
old  soldier. 

Sir  Arthur  took  his  beautiful  niece  home  that  evening 
to  Harbury  House. 

"  Do  you  know  why  I  gave  this  house  the  name  of  Har- 
bury ? "  he  said  to  her  ;  and  then  he  told  her  that  it  was 
in  affectionate  remembrance  of  the  pretty  town  where  his 
father  had  lived  and  died. 

Magnificent  as  the  house  was,  it  was  but  a  fitting  shrine 
for  the  young  beauty  who  had  come  to  be  mistress  of  it. 
When  they  stood  in  the  drawing-room,  Sir  Arthur  regarded 
his  niece  still  more  attentively. 

"  I  should  hardly  have  known  you,  Leah,"  he  said,  gen- 
tly. "  Among  all  the  Hattons  I  do  not  think  we  have  had 
one  like  you." 

The  exquisite  face  brightened. 

*'  There  are  times,  uncle,"  she  said,  "  when  I  do  not 
quite  know  myself — the  change  is  so  great  to  me." 

"  My  dear  Leah,"  he  returned,  in  the  earnest  simple 
manner  which  alwa  ys  carried  truth  with  it,  "  you  were  born 
for  the  station  I  hope  to  see  you  fill.  It  would  have  been 
ten  thousand  pities  to — leave  you  where — you  were." 

That  was  the  only  allusion  the  general  ever  made  to 
the  past,  and  it  seemed  to  be  wrung  from  him  by  the  sur- 
prise of  her  marvellous  loveliness. 

On  that  same  n;ght  he  showed  Leah  all  over  the  magni- 
ficent mansion  that  he  had  made  his  own,  with  all  its 
treasures  of  art  and  wealth. 

"  This  will  be  yours  when  I  die,  Leah,"  he  said  ;  and 
he  was  proud  to  s^e  that  no  flush  of  elation  came  to  her 
face.  "  I  wonder  Leah,"  he  said,  suddenly,  "  if  you  could 
bear  ill-fortune  as  well  as  you  do  prosperity  ? " 

"  I  trust  so,"  she  answered ;  and  the  firm,  steadfast  ex- 
pression on  her  face  made  him  think  that  she  could. 


88  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

"  I  hope  you  will  never  be  tried,"  he  said. 

They  sat  together  for  some  time  talking.  He  was 
charmed  with  Leah's  manner,  her  bright,  fascinating  ways, 
her  graceful,  well-chosen  words. 

"  You  shall  not  leave  me  again,  Leah,"  he  said,  "until 
you  are  married." 

"  I  do  not  think  I  am  one  of  the  marrying  kind,"  she 
replied,  with  a  sweet,  low  laugh. 

"  Among  the  old  Roman  noblesse  and  gay  Neapolitan 
princes  was  there  not  one  you  liked,  Leah  ?  " 

"  I  liked  them  all  in  the  same  fashion,"  she  replied 
"  The  Prince  of  San  Sabino  is,  I  should  think,  as  hand- 
some a  man  as  could  be  seen  in  the  world,  with  a  most 
musical  voice  and  most  courtly  manner.  They  call  him 
the  Roman  Apollo." 

"  And  even  this  Apollo  did  not  interest  you,  Leah  ? " 
he  said. 

"  No  ;  so,  dearest  uncle,  if  we  are  to  live  together  until 
I  am  married,  I  do  not  see  any  chance  of  our  parting  just 
yet." 

"  That's  right,"  he  said.  "  I  could  hardly  bear  to  lose 
you  at  present,  Leah.     Let  me  see — how  old  are  you  now  ?  " 

"  I  am  in  my  nineteenth  year,"  she  replied. 

**  And  when  is  the  drawing-room  to  be  held  ? " 

**  Next  Tuesday." 

"  And  from  that  day  a  new  life  will  unfold  to  you,  1 
suppose.  I  wish  you  success  ;  I  could  not  wish  it  more  earn- 
estly were  you  my  own  daughter." 

When,  after  a  few  days  of  anxious  preparation,  Leah 
stood  before  him  dressed  for  her  presentation,  he  owned 
himself  perfectly  well  pleased.  The  duchess,  whose  taste 
was  irreproachable,  had  chosen  her  court  dress ;  and  the 
general  had  presented  her  with  a  suite  of  diamonds — stone 
that  shone  and  scintillated  with  every  movement — diL 
monds  that  made  many  envious. 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  89 

**  Are  you  quite  satisfied  with  me,  uncie  ?  "  she  asked, 
with  a  smile  that  deepened  her  bright  loveliness. 

**  Quite,"  he  answered.  "  I  always  thought  the  fashion 
of  wearing  fathers  awkward  until  now." 

The  duchess  called  for  her,  and  they  drove  away  to  the 
Palace  together.  The  day  was  fine,  the  crowd  great. 
Many  of  the  royal  family  were  present.  There  were  de- 
butantes  from  many  of  the  noblest  families  in  the  liind; 
but  Leah  outshone  them  all  as  a  planet  outshines  the 
stars. 

She  never  forgot  the  moment  when  she  stood  first  in 
the  presence  of  the  gracious  lady  who  rules  the  vast  empire 
over  which  the  sun  neve^  sets.  Looking  up  with  half- 
frightened  eyes,  she  saw  before  her  a  noble,  kindly  face, 
with  a  pleasant  smile,  she  saw  the  gleam  of  jewelled  orders. 
A  kindly  voice  was  speaking  to  her.  The  niece  of  so 
brave  and  worthy  a  soldier  as  Sir  Arthur  Hatton  could  not 
but  be  welcomed  by  the  sovereign  whom  he  had  so  faith- 
fully served.  Looking  at  the  royal  lady,  so  true  a  woman, 
and  so  true  a  Queen,  Leah  bethought  her  of  who  she  herself 
really  was — the  daughter  of  the  man  who  used  all  his  elo- 
quence, and  every  other  gift  of  Heaven  to  him,  in  his 
endeavors  to  hurl  his  sovereign  from  her  throne,  to  turn  the 
hearts  of  her  people  from  her ;  and,  as  she  bent  low  be- 
fore the  Queen,  her  eyes  were  dim  with  tears.  True  loy- 
alty rose  in  her  heart,  and  she  thanked  Heaven  once  more 
that  she  had  been  saved  from  what  seemed  to  her  worse 
than  "  a  furnace  of  fire."  She  could  never  have  spoken 
against  the  Queen,  or  led  the  hearts  of  her  people  from 
her.  She  smiled  to  herself  a  half  sad  smile.  It  seemed 
so  strange  that  she,  who  was  once  destined  to  be  a  lecturer 
against  royalty,  should  now  be  presented  to  her  Maiesty. 


90  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-KIN^ 


CHAPTER  XIIL 

From  the  day  of  her  presentation  a  new  life  began  for 
Leah.  Hitherto  she  had  seen  but  little  of  the  world.  In 
Rome  and  in  Naples  the  Duchess  had  .taken  her  out  but 
little.  She  wanted  her  to  take  the  London  world  captive 
by  her  fresh  and  undimmed  beauty ;  she  did  so.  On  the 
day  of  the  drawing-room  Uttle  else  was  discussed  but  the 
loveliness,  the  rich  dress,  the  costly  jewels,  the  vast  wealth 
of  Miss  Hatton.  People  even  went  into  raptures  over  her 
name,  and  said  that  no  other  would  have  suited  her  dark 
passionate  beauty. 

In  a  few  days  "  the  beautiful  Miss  Hatton  "  grew  fa- 
mous— she  became  the  rage.  On  the  night  of  the  day  that 
she  had  been  presented,  the  Duchess  of  Rosedene  gave  a 
sumptuous  ball,  at  which  she  was  the  belle.  Some  young 
girls  would  have  been  both  elated  and  excited  by  the  sensa- 
tion made.  She  was  neither ;  she  was  cool,  calm,  stately 
as  a  young  empress.  Some  of  the  noblest  men  in  the  land 
bowed  before  her,  peers  complimented  her ;  but  the  beauti- 
ful face  never  flushed,  the  beautiful  eyes  never  brightened 
with  triumph. 

"  Who  shall  say  that  good  blood  does  not  tell  ?  "  thought 
the  old  soldier.  "  I  do  not  believe  her  pulse  would  beat 
more  quickly  even  if  an  emperor  asked  her  to  dance." 

He  was  right ;  in  this,  the  most  brilliant  scene  in  which 
she  had  ever  mingled,  a  strange  sense  of  unreality  came 
over  her.  She  could  remember  the  fiery,  passionate  burning 
words  with  which  her  father  had  denounced  all  such  gay- 
eties  and  the  men  and  women  who  joined  in  them ;  and  yet, 
here  was  she,  his  eldest  daughter,  who  had  been  trained 


THE  BROKEN-  WEDDING-RING.  gj 

by  him,  the  very  queen  of  one  of  the  assemblies  he  cen« 
sured ! 

There  was  a  few  moments'  pause  for  her,  during  which 
she  said  to  herself  that  her  past  life  shadowed  the  present, 
during  which  she  wondered  if  she  would  have  been  per- 
fectly happy  had  the  past  been  different,  had  she  been 
differently  trained.  Those  watching  her  wondered  at  the 
shadow  that  seemed  to  fall  over  her  face. 

It  was  not  the  perfect  beauty  alone  which  attracted  men, 
She  was  unlike  most  girls  of  her  age.  She  was  calm,  but 
not  content;  nothing  seemed  to  interest  her  long — the 
sweetest  music,  the  most  witty  or  animated  conversation, 
could  not  hold  her  for  any  time.  She  was  restless,  as  one 
always  seeking  something  better  than  that  yet  found.  The 
only  time  when  she  seemed  quite  satisfied  was  when  she 
poured  out  all  the  pent-up  passion  and  poetry  of  her  nature 
in  music  of  her  own.  Men  were  quick  to  perceive  that 
she  was  not  of  the  ordinary  type  of  girls,  that  flattery  did 
not  touch  her,  that  she  was  above  all  coquetry  and  flirta- 
tion. Half  of  those  who  met  her  went  home  that  night 
raving  of  her. 

The  duchess  was  delighted  with  her  success.  She  had 
felt  sure  of  it,  she  had  prophesied  it ;  but  it  had  far  ex- 
ceeded even  her  most  sanguine  anticipations. 

"  The  world  is  at  her  feet,  Sir  Arthur,"  she  said  ;  "  she 
can  do  as  she  will.  No  girl  ever  made  a  more  successful 
debut  I  am  proud  of  her.  Look  at  her  now."  The 
duchess  was  seated  watching  the  dancing;  Sir  Arthur  stood 
by  her  side.  "  Look,"  she  continued,  "  at  the  easy  self^ 
possession.  There  is  not  the  faintest  flush  on  her  face, 
not  even  the  faintest  stir  in  the  diamonds  that  lie  on  het 
breast,  not  a  quiver  in  the  blossoms  of  the  lovely  flowers 
she  holds." 

Yet  on  one  side  of  her  stood  a  gallant,  genial  prince, 
on  the  other  a  group  of  the  most  notable  men  ia  the  world 


g2  A  BROKEN  WKDDING'RING. 

of  fashion.  She  turned  with  ready  attention  from  one  to 
another,  without  coquetry,  without  affectation.  The  pro- 
fessional beauties  fought  shy  of  her,  and  were  very  hard 
in  their  criticisms,  much  to  the  amusement  of  the  sterner 
sex  ;  they  did  not  see  what  there  was  to  rave  about.  Lord 
Dunbar,  who  was  supposed  to  be  a  good  authority  on 
beauty,  said  that  if  she  had  no  other  charm  but  that  of  the 
long  dark  silken  lashes  that  fringed  her  eyes,  she  would 
still  be  the  fairest  of  women. 

The  scene  was  like  a  dream  to  Leah,  a  dream  that 
never  quite  faded.  The  golden  flood  of  light  that  made 
everything  so  clear  and  distinct,  the  thousands  of  lovely 
fragrant  flowers,  the  magnificent  decorations,  the  grand 
crashing  of  the  music,  the  fair  faces,  the  rich  dresses,  the 
subdued  silvery  murmur  of  laughter  and  of  sw^eet  voices, 
the  rhythm  of  the  flying  feet,  the  admiring  eyes  that  rested 
on  her,  the  deep  voices,  that  had  whispered  compliments  to 
her,  lived  in  her  memory  for  years.  No  other  ball  in  after 
years  was  like  this. 

When  they  reached  home  Sir  Arthur  was  surprised  to 
find  that  his  niece  looked  almost  as  dainty  and  as  fresh  as 
when  she  had  started.  The  flowers  had  not  withered  in 
her  hand,  there  was  no  sign  of  fatigue  in  the  beautiful  face, 
or  of  weariness  in  the  dark  eyes. 

"  It  has  been  a  grand  success,  Leah,"  said  Sir  Arthur, 
as  he  bade  her  good-night — "  one  of  which  we  may  both 
be  proud." 

"  A  grand  success  indeed,"  she  replied.  Yet  even  as 
she  said  the  words,  a  sense  of  desolation  and  loneliness 
filled  her  heart. 

A  little  later  she  stood  in  her  luxurious  dressing-room. 
Everything  that  surrounded  her  was  costly ;  rich  jewels 
gleaming  in  their  satin  cases,  fans,  slippers,  ornaments  of 
every  kind,  intermixed  with  choice  flowers,  made  a  very 
confusion  of  beauty  j  the  delicate  carpet  of  velvet  pile  was 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  93 

soft  and  thick ;  the  hangings  were  of  white  and  pink ;  a 
few  choice  engravings  adorned  the  walls ;  treasures  of  mar- 
quetry, dainty  carvings,  and  lovely  statuettes  told  of  the 
artistic  taste  which  made  the  room  a  gem.  She  stood 
in  the  midst  of  it,  her  heart  still  beating  with  the  emotion 
she  had  not  been  able  to  control.  A  success  indeed !  Yet 
in  the  olden  days,  so  far  off,  when  she  had  been  with  Het- 
tie  for  a  stroll  in  the  wood  or  by  the  sea,  or  even  in  the 
crowded  streets  of  the  city,  she, had  felt  happier  and  less 
lonely  than  now.  She  had  everything  that  wealth  and  af- 
fection could  lavish  upon  her,  and  yet  she  was  lonely.  If 
only  the  fair,  loving  sister  were  here  !  If  only  the  loving 
arms  were  round  her,  and  she  could  kiss  the  sweet  face  ! 
A  success  ?  Ay,  it  was  that  indeed !  But  was  she  really 
happy  ?  Her  maid  had  gone  away,  so  she  drew  aside  the 
curtains  and  stood  at  the  window,  watching  the  moonlight 
on  the  trees. 

Was  she  happy  .^  What  were  the  vague,  curious  de- 
sires that  filled  her  heart  ? 

No  girl  in  this  world  had  a  brighter  future.  True,  there 
was  a  dark  background  to  the  past ;  but  the  time  to  come 
seemed  bright  enough.  She  wondered  what  would  make 
her  happy  ?  Not  money ;  she  had  already  many  thousands, 
and  the  time  would  come  when  she  would  have  more. 
Money  had  nothing  to  do  with  it.  It  was  not  I'ank  or  posi- 
tion, title  or  grandeur.  She  remembered  that  but  a  short 
time  since  she  had  heard  the  story  of  a  beautiful  and  be- 
loved young  princess  who  was  compelled  from  political 
motives  to  make  a  marriage  of  state.  She  heard  of  the 
sighs  and  moans  that  sounded  at  night  in  the  palace,  and 
how,  on  her  wedding  eve,  the  beautiful  young  princess  was 
drugged  to  sleep.  Ah,  no  it  was  not  grandeur  or  rank  ! 
The  heart  of  aqueen  often  aches  as  keenly  as  the  heart  of 
a  peasant.  There  was  something  far  better  worth  living 
fpi:  than  all  this. 


Q4  THE  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

Some  exquisite  lines  were  ringing  vaguely  through  her 
brain  of  the  desire  of  a  moth  for  a  star.  Was  she  the 
moth,  and  happiness  the  star  ?  There  must  be  a  bright, 
beautiful  something  in  life  that  she  had  not  reached  yet, 
something  higher  and  better  than  rank,  fame,  or  gold,  some- 
thing that  was  the  crown  of  life  and  the  treasure  of  woman- 
hood. The  knowledge  came  to  her,  in  that  silent  hour,  that 
nothing  would  ever  content  her  but  "  a  great  love  " 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


During  the  next  three  years  Leah  Hatton  was  the  very 
queen  of  fashion.     She  was  more  popular,  more  sought, 
after,  more  admired,  more  beloved,  more  envied  than  any 
other  woman  of  her  day.     Her  beauty  grew  with  her  years. 
She  was  twenty-one  now,  and  the  magnificent  promise  of  her 
girlhood  had  been   fulfilled.     Her  loveliness  had  grown 
richer  ;  the  gleam  in  her  dark  eyes  was  brighter ;  the  dainty 
bloom  that  had  been  faint  as  the  hue  of  a  blush  rose  had 
deepened ;  the  face  was  radiant  in  its  own  loveliness — men 
found  it  more  than  fair.     During  those  three  years  she 
had  presided  with  infinite  grace  over  the  large  establish- 
ment  at  Brentwood  and  the  magnificent  house  in  town. 
At  Brentwood  she  had  received  party  after  party  of  guests, 
including  some  of  the  greatest  statesmen  of  the  day,  and 
she  was  considered  one  of  the  most  attractive  hostesses  in 
the  land.     In  a  wonderfully  short  time  she  acquired  the  art 
of  entertaining,  knew  "  who  was  who,"  and,  in  fact,  was 
equal  to  all  the  requirements  of  social  life.     She   never 
made  any  mistakes.     After  a  few  weeks  the  general  found 
that  he  could  with  safety  leave  everything  to   her.     The 
servants  worshipped  her ;  one  word  from  their  beautiful 


A  BROKEN-  WMDDING-RING. 


95 


young  mistress  was  law.  She  was  worshipped,  too,  by  the 
poor  around  Brentwood,  for  she  gave  with  a  liberal  hand  ; 
she  was  beloved  by  all  her  dependents,  for  she  was  both 
just  and  generous — by  all  who  knew  her  for  her  beauty 
and  talents  and  winsome  grace.  At  Harbury  House  dur- 
ing those  three  seasons  she  was  a  queen.  The  best  din- 
ners, the  best  balls,  the  most  successful  private  theatricals 
were  given  there.  There  were  many  other  debutantes,  but 
no  one  ever  approached  her ;  the  throne  she  held  was 
entirely  her  own. 

Season  after  season  the  beautiful  Leah  Hatton  came 
back  to  the  gay  world  with  fresh  graces  and  charms.  She 
was  singular  in  many  respects.  She  made  many  acquaint- 
ances, but  very  few  friends.  She  had  no  girl-friend  to 
whom  she  could  speak  of  her  thoughts  and  feelings  ;  her 
heart  grew  sad  when  she  thought  of  any  one  else  in 
Hettie's  place.  Among  the  faces  of  the  girls  around  her 
she  saw  not  one  so  sweet  and  fair  as  Hettie's ;  and,  re- 
membering this,  a  coldness  came  to  Miss  Hatton  which 
added  to  the  effect  of  her  proud  young  beauty.  She  was 
considered  everywhere  as  the  most  eligible,  the  most  de- 
sirable match  of  the  day.  It  was  well  known  that  she  was 
the  general's  niece  ;  no  one  cared  to  ask  whether  she  was 
the  child  of  sister  or  brother.  It  was  also  well  known  that 
the  whole  of  the  general's  vast  fortune  would  be  hers.  She 
was  at  the  very  height  of  her  popularity :  people  spared 
themselves  no  trouble  to  obtain  even  a  glimpse  of  her  fair 
face.  When  she  went  to  the  opera,  more  attention  was 
paid  to  her  than  to  the  stage. 

"  Beautiful  Leah  Hatton  !  "  What  more  in  life  could 
she  desire  than  she  had — wealth,  popularity,  affection  ? 
Yet  she  was  not  happy ;  her  soul  had  found  no  rest.  Bril- 
liant and  gay  as  was  her  life,  it  did  not  satisfy  her.  It  was 
bu^  as  a  dream  to  one  who  has  ia^nite  longings  and  infimte 
desires. 


^5  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

If  Martin  Ray  succeeded  in  nothing  else,  he  had  done 
this  for  his  daughter — he  had  taken  her  out  of  the  common 
groove,  he  had  made  her  think,  he  had  filled  her  mind 
with  a  thousand  ideas  of  life.  These  were  always  puz- 
zling her.  She  had  the  air,  the  manner,  the  look  of  one 
whose  thoughts  and  aims  were  higher  and  loftier  than  those 
of  others.  This  added  much  to  the  charm  of  her  passion- 
ate, proud  beauty.  The  men  who  danced  with  her  admired 
her  the  more  because  no  flush  of  vanity  came  to  her  face. 
There  was  upon  it  the  far-off  look,  the  restless  longing  that 
nothing  could  gratify. 

"  As  for  lovers,"  the  duchess  of  Rosedene  cried,  hold- 
ing up  her  hands  in  horror,  **  there  is  not  an  eligible  man 
in  the  land  who  has  not  sought  her !  Such  offers,  and  all 
refused !  Refused  too,  without  rhyme  or  reason  I  Leah 
has  some  notion  that  she  must  love  some  one,  that  love  is 
the  great  end  and  aim  of  each  one's  life — love — not  wealth, 
pleasure,  or  gayety,  but  love  ;  and,  with  such  ideas,  what  can 
one  do  ? "  The  duchess  shrugged  her  shoulders  as  she 
spoke.  "  Love,  with  such  prospects  as  she  has  before 
her!" 

Some  of  the  offers  Miss  Hatton  received  were  dazzling 
ones.  The  young  Earl  of  Barberry  was  handsome,  talented 
and  passionately  fond  of  her.  No;  she  would  not  be 
Countess  of  Barberry.  There  was  the  Duke  of  Lincoln, 
who  had  country  seats,  a  town  mansion,  and  untold  wealth, 
who  would  have  made  her  his  duchess.  She  would  not  be 
Duchess  of  Lincoln  ;  and  she  had  no  other  reason  to  give 
than  that  she  did  not  love  him ;  and  the  one  thing  she 
longed  for  in  this  life  was  love. 

"  Love  I  "  said  the  duchess.  "  It  will  come  with 
marriage." 

"  Not  the  love  I  want,"  she  replied  j  "that  must  come 
before,    I  want  a  romance  in  my  life," 


TIfE  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  9, 

**  It  is  the  way  with  those  dark-eyed  girls,"  said  the 
duchess.     "  What  a  pity  it  is !  ** 

Then  a  great  legal  celebrity  fell  in  love  with  Leah  ; 
and  of  all  the  conquests  she  made  that  was  certainly  the- 
most  wonderful.  He  was  a  man  whose  name  was  a  tower 
of  strength,  whose  opinion  was  held  in  the  highest  esteem, 
and  who  had  never  spent  one  half-hour  in  wooing  in  his 
life.  He  grew  desperate  about  her,  and  the  wonder  was 
that  he  did  not  run  away  with  her.  He  could  not  realize 
his  disappointment;  he  could  hardly  bear  his  life  when 
she  refused  him.  The  duchess  sighed,  but  said  nothing. 
If  the  Earl  of  Barberry  could  not  win  her,  there  was  little 
hope  for  the  legal  lord. 

"  You  will  marry  some  time,  Leah,"  she  said,  with  the 
resignation  of  despair. 

"  It  is  possible,"  she  replied,  smiling ;  "  but  it  is  more 
probable  that  I  shall  never  marry  at  all." 

"  Should  you  mind  telling  me  why  ?  "  asked  the  duch- 
ess, in  tones  of  mock  resignation. 

"  I  will  tell  you,  duchess ;  but  you  will  be  angry  with 
me.  I  want  some  one  to  love  me  more  than  life  itself — 
some  one  to  be  devoted  to  me,  to  give  me  all  his  thoughts, 
his  whole  life  ;  I  want  his  heart  to  be  one  with  mine,  his 
soul  to  be  the  other  half  of  my  soul.  I  want  perfect  love 
and  I  want  a  perfect  lover.  I  have  my  ideal  love,  and  no 
other  will  do  ;  I  have  my  ideal  lover,  and  I  shall  wait  for 
him." 

"  My  dear  Leah,  you  are  all  wrong,"  cried  the  duchess ; 
**  you  are,  indeed !  Take  care  that  you  do  not  find  such 
love  and  such  a  lover  costly." 

"  I  will  take  the  pain,  if  there  should  be  any,  with  the 
happiness,"  she  said.  "  All  my  life  I  have  thought  that 
the  one  thing  to  be  desired  is  love." 

"  There  is  no  accounting  for  taste,  Leah  ;  but  certainly, 
with  such  prospects  as  you  have,  to  make  love  the  chief 


98  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

aim  of  your  life  is,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  a  sad  pity.  This 
ideal  hero  of  yours  is  sure  to  be  both  poor  and  unknown." 

Leah  laughed  again.  How  sweet  that  laughter  was ! 
The  duchess  smiled  as  she  heard  it. 

"  I  cannot  tell ;  he  may  be  the  very  reverse  of  poor  or 
unknown.  I  do  not  know  who  he  is  or  where  he  may  be. 
It  is  just  possible  that  I  may  never  meet  him ;  but  he 
exists  somewhere.  You  know  the  old  belief,  duchess,  that 
souls  were  made  in  halves,  and  that  real  marriage  is  the 
union  of  those  half  souls  in  one  ?  " 

*'  Oh,  Leah,"  cried  the  duchess,  laughing,  "  there  is  no 
hope  for  you  !  " 

"  Not  much,"  she  said,  "for  I  believe  that  I  am  waiting 
for  my  ideal;  and  he,  rely  upon  it,  is  seeking  me  some- 
where. If  we  meet,  I  shall  ask  no  more  in  life.  He  may 
be  poor  and  unknown  ;  if  so,  it  will  make  no  difference  to 
me.  He  may  be  great,  noble,  and  wealthy  ;  it  will  be  a 
matter  of  perfect  indifference-  to  me.  Shall  I  shock  you 
just  a  little  more,  duchess  ? "  she  added. 

**  Say  what  you  will,  my  dear ;  I  am  resigned." 

"  I  have  an  idea  that  the  moment  I  see  him  I  shall 
know  him.  I  shall  look  into  his  face,  and  a  revelation  wiL* 
come  to  me." 

"Avery  dangerous  notion,  Leah.  You  may  fall  in  love 
with  the  wrong  man  altogether." 

"  How  can  I,  if  my  theory  be  true  ?  "  she  replied.  "  I 
have  no  doubt  it  seems  absurd  to  you ;  but  it  is  a  serious 
matter  to  me.  I  should  not  be  surprised  if  some  day  I 
look  into  a  face  and  hear  a  voice  say  :  *  I  have  been  look- 
ing for  you  all  these  years.*  " 

The  duchess  raised  her  hands. 

"And  this,'*  she  said  musingly — "this  is  after  five 
years  spent  almost  entirely  with  me,  after  three  seasons 
of  brilliant,  uninterrupted  success  !  " 

"  I  have  enjoyed  it,"  replied  Leah ;  "  but  there  must 


A  BROKEN  wedding-ring. 


99 


be  something  better.  Balls  and  operas, /V/<?j  and  garden 
parties,  dinners  and  picnics,  dresses  and  diamonds,  flattery 
and  homage,  are  all  very  well — but  they  could  not  fill  a 
life.  There  is  no  heart,  no  soul  in  them ;  and,"  she  con- 
tinued, half  sadly,  *'  one  must  tire  of  them  after  a  time." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ? "  asked  the  duchess,  looking  at  her 
gravely. 

"  Yes  I  do.  One  ball  is  like  another — ^there  are  the 
same  people,  the  same  dances,  music,  jewels  ;  all  one's  part- 
ners say  pretty  nearly  the  same  things.  Dinners  are  the 
same — one  differs  very  little  from  another.  At  the  opera, 
although  there  is  infinite  beauty  in  the  music,  it  is  always 
the  same  story  of  love  or  jealousy.  No,  I  do  not  think 
that  even  a  life  spent  amid  such  brilliant  scenes  could  fill 
one's  heart  and  soul." 

"You  are  a  strange  girl,  Leah,"  said  the  duchess. 
"  Who  would  imagine  that  the  belle  of  the  season  had  such 
notions  as  these  ?  You  have  made  me  very  uncomfortable, 
my  dear.  I  shall  live  now  in  dread  always  that  some  day 
or  other  you  will  meet  with  one  whom  you  may  choose  to 
imagine  your  ideal,  and  do  something  rash.  I  always  said 
that  there  was  something  in  your  face  even  that  made 
you  different  from  other  girls.  But,  Leah  as  you  have 
trusted  me  so  far,  trust  me  even  further.  Tell  me,  among 
all  the  men  you  have  met — and  you  know  the  wisest  the 
noblest,  the  best — is  there  not  one  of  them  whom  you  have 
liked !  '* 

"  Not  one,"  she  replied.  "  I  shall  know  when  I  meet 
my  ideal ;  my  heart  shall  speak  and  tell  me.  I  have  not 
met  him  yet." 

"  When  you  do,  my  dear,  I  prophesy Well,  I  will 

not  prophesy ;  I  will  only  tell  you  that  a  grand  passion 
brings  more  pain  than  pleasure;  and  that  if  you  want  to 
be  happy  you  must  avoid  the  terrible  fever  that  men  call 
love." 


too  A  BROKEN  WEDDlNG'Rl^Qi 


CHAPTER  XV. 

The  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Rosedene  had  become  very 
much  attached  to  Leah,  and  when  the  season  ended  they 
begged  the  general  and  her  to  come  to  pay  them  a  long 
visit  at  Dene  Abbey.  They  were  to  remain  there  during 
the  autumn  and  winter.  Sir  Arthur  did  not  quite  like  the 
idea,  and  a  compromise  was  made.  The  whole  party  were 
to  visit  Brentwood  first,  and  remain  there  for  six  weeks ; 
then  they  were  to  go  to  Dene  Abbey  and  stay  there  as 
long  as  Sir  Arthur  wished — an  arrangement  which  pleased 
every  one.  Leah  by  this  time  had  grown  to  love  the 
duchess  so  much  that  she  never  liked  to  be  separated  from 
her  for  long  together. 

Brentwood  was  looking  its  best  at  the  end  of  July. 
The  lovely  month  was  as  fair  as  it  could  be — not  too  warm, 
but  with  all  the  glory  of  sunlight,  the  song  of  birds,  the 
bloom  of  flowers,  the  beauty  of  spreading  trees  and  sing- 
brooks.  There  are  few  counties  in  England  so  charming 
as  Warwickshire.  Shady  woods,  green  hills,  clear,  deep 
streams,  meres  on  which  the  great  white  water-lilies  sleep, 
valleys  full  of  ferns  and  wild  flowers,  render  it  a  beautiful 
county ;  and  Brentwood  was  one  of  the  most  beautifal 
places  in  it.  The  mansion  was  built  on  rising  ground  over- 
looking the  river  Brent — a  deep,  clear  stream,  full  of  lights 
and  shadows,  that  meandered  through  the  fairest  woodland 
and  seemed  to  sing  as  it  wandered,  of  the  scenes  it  had 
left  behind  it.  Of  arches  formed  by  the  green  willow-trees 
beside  it,  of  dark,  cold,  shadowy  nooks,  of  laughing  hill- 
sides which  glowed  in  the  sun,  of  green  fields,  of  white 
swans  that  sailed  down  it,  of  reeds  and  sedges  through 


A  BROKEN-  WEDDING^^INt:!'     '    ■        loi' 

which  the  Wind  made  music,  of  pretty;  ?t!S-tici*i)H%^^'.tH^ife 
spanned  it,  of  lovers  that  whispered  sweet  words  on  its 
banks— of  all  these  the  river  seemed  to  murmur. 

The  grounds  of  the  mansion  extended  to  the  very  banks 
of  the  river.  There  was  a  picturesque  old  boat-house, 
haunted,  so  rumor  said,  by  the  spirit  of  a  jealous,  unhappy 
lady  who  had  drowned  herself  in  the  stream,  and  whose 
dead  body  had  drifted  into  the  cool,  silent  shadows  of  the 
boat-house,  where  it  was  found  the  next  day. 

The  Brent  woods  were  as  beautiful  as  a  dream — a  fair, 
green  kingdom,  inhabited'  by  the  most  musical  of  birds,  by 
shy  rabbits,  by  saucy  squirrels,  by  a  thousand  living  things 
known  only  to  ardent  students  of  Nature.  There  were 
avenues  like  great  cathedral  aisles,  full  of  gleaming  lights, 
half  green,  half  gold  ;  lovely  shady  "  clearings,"  where  the 
flowers  grew  so  that  they  formed  a  carpet — butter-cups 
and  daisies,  meadow-sweet  and  celandine,  wild  hya- 
cinths and  blue-bells,  flowers  enough  to  send  a  poet  or 
artist  into  raptures.  Hidden  in  the  woods,  too,  were 
numerous  little  brooks,  tributaries  of  the  river  Brent. 

As  the  mansion  stood  on  the  slope  of  a  great  green 
hill,  its  appearance  was  very  striking.  From  the  back- 
ground there  seemed  to  arise  a  forest  of  green  ;  on  either 
side  stretched  smiling  woodlands,  and  in  front  the  beauti- 
ful terraces  and  grounds  sloped  down  to  the  brimming 
river. 

The  general  had  invited  several  guests  to  Brentwood, 
and  the  party  promised  to  be  a  very  pleasant  one. 

"  At  some  future  day  you  will  be  sole  mistress  of  this 
beautiful  place,  Leah,"  said  the  duchess,  as  they  were 
walking  one  morning  on  the  great  terrace. 

"  I  suppose  so,  "  she  replied ;  "  but  I  never  like  to 
think  of  the  time.  I  wish  that  my  uncle  could  live  as 
long  as  if  not  longer  than,  I  shall. "  She  seemed  anx- 
ious not  t®  con^nue  the  conversation,  for  soon  afterwatd 


"«b»'        'V    '^  i&^  BnOKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

Sja^' clk§ppd;  her*;  Kands-  in  delight.  " O,  duchess  !  "  she 
said,  "  what  quantities  of  my  favorite  passion-flower !  And 
what  colors — purple,  scarlet,  and  blue !  What  rich  clus- 
ters !  I  must  gather  some ;  they  are  like  the  faces  of  old 
friends  smiling  at  me." 

"  You  have  brought  passion-flowers  into  fashion,"  the 
duchess  said  smiling ;  "  I  never  saw  you  without  them. 
Why  do  you  like  them  better  than  any  other  flower, 
Leah .? " 

"  I  do  not  knov/.  I  think  it  is  because  they  are  mys- 
tical flowers ;  they  are  full  of  mystery  and  passion  and 
sorrow." 

"  You  ought  to  like  red  roses  best,"  said  the  duchess  ; 
"  they  suit  you." 

"No,"  returned  Leah;  "give  me  scarlet  passion-flow- 
ers ;  they  seem  to  me  choicest  of  all." 

"I  suppose,"  laughed  the  duchess,  "that  when  the 
ideal  *  he '  comes  it  will  be  discovered  that  his  favorite 
flower  is  the  passion-flower  ?  " 

"  I  should  not  be  surprised,"  replied  Leah,  gently. 

"  That  will  be  one  of  the  signs  by  which  you  will  know 
him,"  said  the  duchess,  mockingly  ;  but  afterward  the 
words  came  back  to  her,  and  she  marvelled  at  them. 

What  the  duchess  had  said  was  true — Leah  had 
brought  the  passion-flower  into  fashion.  It  was  her  favor- 
ite. If  in  a  fashionable  crowd  one  saw  the  gleam  of 
scarlet  passion-flowers,  it  was  certain  that  beautiful  Leah 
Hatton  was  there.  This  fancy  of  hers  was  well  known 
when  Millar,  the  great  artist,  painted  her  portrait — that 
year  the  loveliest  picture  on  the  walls  of  the  Royal  Acad- 
emy. He  carried  out  the  poetic  idea ;  he  painted  her,  in 
all  the  pride  of  her  girlish  beauty,  in  a  dress  of  superb 
black  velvet,  with  scarlet  passion-flowers  in  her  dark  hair, 
on  her  white  breast,  and  shining  like  flame  in  her  shapely 
hand.    The  picture  created  quite  as  great  a  sensation  as 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING'RING.  103 

the  original  had.  People  crowded  to  see  it.  The  artist 
had  named  it  "  The  Passion-flower,"  and  those  who  saw  it 
felt  that  there  was  some  strange  affinity  between  the  beau- 
tiful face,  with  its  dark  eyes  and  wild-rose  bloom,  its  ripe, 
scarlet  lips,  its  dawn  of  passion,  and  the  passion-flower 
The  critics  all  raved  of  it,  society  journals  praised  it,  and 
it  brought  the  mystical  flower  into  fashion ;  and  during  the 
third  season  Miss  Hatton  spent  in  London  she  was  known 
as  the  "  Passion-flower.  " 

"  I  have  had  an  adventure  this  morning,  "  said  Sii 
Arthur,  as  they  sat  down  to  luncheon.  "  I  find  that  the 
young  master  of  Glen  is  expected  home  during  the  week, 
I  lost  my  way  in  the  woods,  and  came  out  quite  close  to 
the  mansion ;  I  have  been  all  over  it.  " 

"  Where  and  what  is  Glen  ?  "  asked  the  duchess. 

And  Sir  Arthur  smiled  as  he  said  : 

*'  I  ought  to  be  a  poet  to  answer  you  ;  it  is  almost  im- 
possible to  do  so  in  prose.  Glen  is  simply  one  of  the  most 
lovely  spots  I  know  in  England.  " 

"  More  beautiful  than  Brentwood,  uncle  ? "  asked 
Leah. 

"Quite  different,  Leah.  Glen  was  once  the  dower- 
nouse  of  a  queen  ;  three  hundred  years  ago  it  came  into 
possession  of  the  Carltons,  and  has  been  theirs  ever  since. 
It  is  simply  perfect.  Your  eyes  are  almost  dazzled  by  the 
gleam  of  sunlight  in  the  waters  of  the  many  fountains,  and 
by  the  bright  colors  of  the  flowers.  The  surroundings,  too, 
are  most  picturesque. " 

"  I  should  like  to  see  it, "  said  the  duchess. 

«  So  should  I,  "added  Leah. 

**  Fair  ladies, "  cried  Sir  Arthur,  "  you  shall  see  it 
whenever  you  will.  The  house  itself  looks  so  cheerful,  no 
one  would  ever  think  that  it  had  once  been  the  scene  of  4 
tragedy. " 

"  Was  it  ? "  asked  the  duchess.    "  Tell  it  to  us. 


^04  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

"I  am  a  new-comer,  "  said  the  general,  "  and  naturally 
enough,  I  know  but  little  about  it.  But  one  of  the  gar- 
deners at  Glen  spoke  of  the  story  this  morning.  I  asked 
him  how  long  the  house  had  been  closed,  and  he  said 
fifteen  years.  Of  course,  I  asked  him  how  that  was,  and  he 
said  that  Lady  Carlton  could  never  bear  to  enter  it  ag-'in, 
and  that  after  the  accident,  she  had  taken  her  son,  Sir, 
Basil,  to  Italy,  where  she  spent  the  remainder  of  her  life, 
but  that  he,  now  that  his  mother  was  dead,  was  coming 
back  to  live  here.  " 

"  What  was  the  accident  ?  "  asked  the  duchess. 

"  A  very  horrible  one.  Lady  Carlton  was  left  a  widow 
when  she  was  very  young.  She  had  but  two  children — a 
girl  and  a  boy ;  the  daughter  Adela,  was  seven  years  older 
than  the  son.  She  was  a  very  winning  girl,  the  very  joy 
of  Lady  Carlton's  heart.  She  fell  in  love — I  forget  who 
the  lover  was — and  everything  was  arranged  for  the  wed- 
ding. She  was  then  eighteen,  and  the  young  brother  only 
eleven.  On  the  night  before  the  wedding  Lady  Carlton 
gave  a  grand  ball,  and  Glen  was  filled  with  a  gay  crowd 
of  guests ;  they  danced  until  the  very  walls  seemed  to 
rock.  The  old  man  told  me  that  the  bride  was  like  some 
lovely  laughing  fairy.  Just  as  the  ball  was  closing,  and 
when  the  happiness  and  gayety  were  greatest,  a  ter/ible 
cry  was  heard.  It  came  from  the  supper-room,  the  grand 
old  banqueting-hall  where  kings  and  queens  had  feasted. 
The  guests  rushed  out,  only  to  witness  a  most  horrible 
scene.  The  beautiful  bride,  with  terrible  cries,  was  seen 
flying  across  the  hall,  her  bright  gossamer  robes  all  aflame. 
Her  light,  fluttering  ball-dress  had  caught  fire,  and,  the 
draught  of  air  fanning  the  flames,  they  met  over  her  head, 
and  enveloped  her.  For  a  moment  every  one  was  para- 
lyzed ;  and  then  one  of  the  guests,  a  gentleman,  caught  up 
a  thick  rug  and  rolled  it  round  her.  He  was  burned  terri- 
bly, but  he  extinguished   the  flames.     It  was  too  late. 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  105 

When  the  hapless  lover  hastened  to  the  hall,  he  saw  the 
girl  lying  in  her  agony  on  the  ground,  her  golden  hair 
burned,  her  face  distorted,  her  pretty  dress  of  white  lace 
and  the  white  water-lilies  all  hanging  in  scorched  shreds 
around  her.  She  spoke  a  few  words  to  him,  and  then 
they  carried  her  upstairs  to  die.  " 

"  What  a  terrible  story !  "  said  the  duchess. 

"  When  Lady  Carlton  recovered  from  the  shock,  '* 
added  Sir  Arthur,  "  she  went  abroad,  and  took  her  son 
with  her.  She  died  at  Naples  last  year,  and  the  master, 
Sir  Basil,  is  coming  home.  " 

"  It  will  be  a  great  trial  to  him  to  return  to  the  scene 
of  such  a  catastrophe, "  said  the  kindly  duchess.  "  You 
must  ask  him  here  as  often  as  you  can. " 

"The  house  is  so  cheerful,  so  bright  and  beautiful, 
you  would  never  think  that  a  tragedy  had  happened 
there. " 

"  There  is  a  tragedy  associated  with  most  houses,  but 
the  world  does  not  know  it,  "  said  the  duchess. 

"  I  pray  heaven,  "  said  the  general,  "  that  there  will 
never  be  one  in  this  I  '* 


CHAPTER  XVL 


It  was  a  lovely  day  in  the  first  week  of  August.  The 
laughing  summer  had  taken  full  possession  of  the  land  ; 
the  yellow  wheat  and  the  glowing  fruit  had  been  kissed  to 
ripeness  by  the  warm  sun.  The  sky  was  blue,  without  a 
cloud,  and  the  fruitful  earth  fair  to  view.  The  river  flow- 
ed calmly  between  the  green  banks,  rustling  through  the 
reeds  and  sedges,  stirring  the  great  leaves  of  the  lilies, 
lippling  over  the  drooping  boughs. 


jo6  A  BROICEN  WEDDING-RING, 

It  was  drawing  near  noon.  Some  of  the  men  had 
sought  the  coolness  of  the  billiard-room ;  some  ot  the 
ladies  had  retired  to  the  shade  of  the  great  cedar-tee, 
with  books  and  work.  Leah  had  gone  to  her  favorite  spot, 
the  terrace,  where  the  passion-flowers  grew  in  such  profu- 
sion. She  had  taken  them  under  her  special  protection 
and  visited  them  every  day.  She  little  knew  what  a  beau- 
tiful picture  she  made  while  standing  there.  Her  exquisite 
face,  with  its  dainty  color  and  sweet  lips,  was  bent 
thoughtfully  over  the  flowers.  She  wore  a  long  trailing 
dress  of  pale  amber.  Every  graceful  line  of  her  figure 
vv'as  seen  to  the  greatest  advantage ;  an  artist  who  could 
have  painted  her  as  she  stood  there  in  the  shade  of  the 
veranda,  with  the  glorious  coloring  of  sunlight  and  flowers 
about  her,  would  have  immortalized  himself.  She  smiled 
as  she  gathered  some  of  the  passion-flowers,  remembering 
the  name  given  to  her. 

Then  her  thoughts  went  to  Hettie,  who  had  loved  the 
sweet  white  lilies  best.  How  different  life  would  be  if 
that  beloved  sister  were  here,  how  doubly  precious  this 
grand  domain  if  Hettie  shared  it !  In  the  gleaming  light 
on  the  river,  in  the  fire  of  the  scarlet  passion-flower,  in  the 
flowers  of  the  gay  parterre,  she  saw  the  sweet  fair  face 
with  its  aureole  of  golden  hair.  Would  they  ever  meet 
again  ?  she  wondered,  sadly.  Love,  even  of  Hettie,  would 
help  to  fill  her  life — for  life  to  her  was  nothing  without 
love.  Suddenly  the  wind,  which  had  hitherto  been  but  a 
languid  breath,  seemed  to  strengthen.  Was  it  the  quick- 
ening breeze  that  made  her  tremble  ?  Had  the  thought 
of  Hettie  unnerved  her.  She  found  herself  still  looking 
over  the  terrace  walls,  her  eyes  fixed  on  two  figures  that 
were  advancing  slowly  toward  her.  A  strange  sense  of 
unreality  possessed  her.  She  could  have  believed  herself 
in  the  midst  of  a  dream  ;  she  could  have  believed  that  the 
brimming  river,  the  blue  sky,  the  green  earth,  the  clustef 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  107 

of  flowers,  were  all  pictures  and  not  realities.  For  a  few 
seconds  everything  seemed  to  be  quite  still  around  her — 
still  even  as  death ;  then  the  golden  light  dazzled  her,  and 
a  sweet  message  seemed  wafted  to  her  on  the  summer 
breeze.  She  made  a  desperate  effort  to  rouse  herself 
from  the  curious,  trance-like  feeling  that  was  gradually 
mastering  her,  and  then  she  saw  Sir  Arthur  standing  close 
to  her,  a  stranger  by  his  side. 

"  Leah, "  said  the  general,  "  our  neighbor,  Sir  Basil 
Carlton,  has  been  kind  enough  to  waive  ceremony  and 
call  upon  us  first.  Sir  Basil,  my  adopted  daughter  and 
dear  niece.  Miss  Hatton. " 

She  saw  a  dark  head  bent  before  her.  She  knew  her 
doom  was  come ;  she  had  known  it  when  she  saw  him 
walking  between  the  great  magnolia-trees.  She  had  al- 
ways said  to  herself  that  she  should  know  at  once,  and 
now  she  knew. 

For  some  minutes  she  did  not  dare  to  raise  her  eyes, 
knowing  that  she  was  about  to  look  upon  the  face  that 
was  to  hold  all  the  light  of  earth  and  sky  for  her.  She 
did  look  up  slowly  at  last,  with  the  same  rapt,  reverent 
gaze  with  which  heathen  worshippers  look  at  the  sun.  A 
great  hush,  a  great  calm  came  over  her.  She  saw  a  noble 
face,  full  of  fire  and  impetuosity,  she  saw  dark  eyes  and 
straight  brows,  a  firm  mouth,  dark  clusters  of  hair,  and  a 
dark  moustache.  Yet  beauty  was  not  the  chief  charm  of 
the  stranger's  face ;  courage  and  dauntless  truth  shone 
there.  Most  people,  when  they  first  met  Sir  Basil  Carlton, 
were  struck  by  his  handsome  features  and  manly  bearing, 
but  they  were  attracted  even  more  when  the  eyes  took  a 
tender  light  and  the  mouth  a  smile  sweet  as  any  woman  s. 

With  the  first  direct  glance  of  his  eyes,  her  heart  went 
down  before  him.  He  had  come  at  last,  this  king  among 
men,  for  whom  she  had  waited  so  long.  How  strange 
that  he  should  find  her  here,  in  the  home  that  was  to  ba 


,o8  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

hers,  in  the  midst  of  the  flowers  she  loved !  How  strange 
that  he  should  be  introduced  to  her  on  this  lovely  morning", 
when  sun,  birds,  and  flowers  seemed  to  vie  with  each 
other,  and  the  river  sung  the  sweetest  melody  she  had 
ever  heard !  She  felt  inclined  to  look  up  at  him  and  ask, 
*'  Have  you  looked  for  me  long  ?  Do  you  know  me  ?  "  but 
prudence  restrained  her.  Even  the  duchess,  who  loved 
her,  had  laughed  at  her  ideas. 

"  I  like  England  better  than  Italy,"  said  Sir  Basil,  sud- 
denly, after  a  few  remarks.  *'  Here,  even  in  August,  how 
cool  and  green  everything  is !  You  cannot  think  what  a 
picture  you  made.  Miss  Hatton,  standing  against  this 
background  of  foliage  and  flowers.  " 

*'  You  have  been  in  Italy  for  many  years  ? "  she  said, 
quietly. 

He  drew  just  a  little  nearer  to  her.  A  great,  trailing 
spray  of  passion-flowers  lay  between  them ;  he  raised  it, 
and  she  thought  to  herself  how  strange  a  coincidence  it 
was  that  she  should  see  him  with  her  favorite  blossoms  \\>. 
his  hand. 

*'  I  was  a  boy  of  eleven  when  I  went  away,"  he  ssici, 
**and  now  I  am  twenty-five.  I  have  never  seen  home 
since  then,  and  I  regret  it.  " 

"Why? "she  asked. 

"  Because  there  is  no  training  like  that  of  an  English 
boy.  I  was  just  getting  fond  of  cricket,  and  beginning  to 
think  about  hunting  and  shooting ;  I  was  a  good  skater, 
and  understood  something  about — the  gloves  ! " 

"Do  you  know,"  put  in  Sir  Arthur,  "that  the  ring- 
fences  of  our  estates  meet  and  touch  in  what  they  call  the 
Thorn  Meadow  ? " 

"  I  remember  hearing  that  when  I  was  at  home.  The 
Brent  woods,  from  which  this  place  takes  its  name,  ex- 
tend almost  to  Glen.  I  knew  every  corner  both  of  house 
and  grounds  when  I  was  a  boy. " 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  109 

"  I  hope  you  will  come  as  often  now  as  you  did  then,  " 
6Sit3  Sir  Arthur,  and  the  young  baronet  bowed. 

"  You  are  very  kind,  "  he  said ;  "  I  shall  be  only  too 
glad  to  avail  myself  of  your  goodness.  *  Coming  home  ' 
is  a  very  melancholy  event  for  me,  as  you  perhaps  know.*' 

"  Yes  ;  we  have  heard  the  cause  of  your  mother's  de- 
parture from  England — and  a  very  painful  one  it  was,  Sir 
Basil,"  said  the  general. 

Leah  looked  up  at  him  ;  all  her  soul  shone  in  her  eyes. 

"  Let  us  help  you  to  forget  the  shadow  which  has  fall- 
en over  your  house  and  your  life,"  she  said;  and  his  face 
brightened. 

"  I  shall  be  only  too  happy,  Miss  Hatton.  I  dreaded 
my  return.  I  remembered  the  Glen  as  one  of  the  loveliest 
of  homes.  I  have  longed  to  be  here.  Yet  the  memory  of 
that  night  will  never  leave  me."  His  whole  face  changed. 
"  My  mother  lived  fifteen  years  after  the  accident  happen- 
ed ;  but  the  shock  her  system  had  received  killed  her  at 
last." 

Leah's  dark  eyes,  full  of  interest  and  sympathy,  filled 
with  tears  ;  and,  as  he  saw  them,  his  heart  warmed  to  her. 
Ho^  long  it  was  since  any  one  had  shed  tears  for  this  old 
sorrow  of  his ! 

"  It  must  have  been  a  terrible  shock  for  you  both,'' 
said  Leah. 

"  Yes  ;  I  was  only  a  boy,  but  I  worshipped  my  sister. 
You  cannot  tell  how  deeply  attached  I  was  to  her.  I 
think  the  love  of  a  sister  is  one  of  the  greatest  joys  of 
earth." 

Why  did  the  fair  face  near  him  grow  so  pale  ?  Why 
did  the  graceful  figure  shrink  and  tremble,  the  hand  that 
held  the  scarlet  flowers  suddenly  fall  nerveless  and  help- 
less ?  Was  it  another  coincidence  that  he  should  value  so 
highly  a  sister's  love  ? 

"  For  years  afterward,"  he  continued,  "  I  often  a^^ke 


1^-0  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

With  that  terrible  scream  of  agony  in  my  ears.  If  ever  \ 
was  inadvertently  left  in  the  dark,  I  saw  the  flying,  terri- 
fied figure  surrounded  by  flames.  But  I  am  cruel  to  trouble 
you  in  this  fashion.     I  must  learn  to  forget." 

"  You  do  not  trouble  us,"  said  Leah  ;  and  she  did  not 
know  how  much  of  sweetness  had  crept  into  her  voice. 
"  I  should  think,"  she  added,  "that  it  would  be  far  better 
for  you  to  talk  about  it  than  to  brood  over  it  silently." 

"Perhaps  it  would,"  he  answered  gratefully.  "You 
must  forgive  me  this  once.  I  came  here  this  morning 
because  I  could  not  remain  in  the  house.  It  was  haunted 
by  my  sister's  presence." 

"  If  I  were  in  your  place,  Basil,"  said  the  general,  "  I 
would  have  plenty  of  friends  abc  at  me.  Stay  with  us  to- 
day, and  to-morrow  we  will  drive  over  and  see  your  gar- 
dens and  conservatories.  We  have  a  pleasant  party,  and 
I  think  you  will  enjoy  yourself." 

He  looked  at  Leah. 

"  I  shall  be  delighted,"  she  said,  simply,  a  faint  flush 
dyeing  her  face. 

"  So  shall  I,"  replied  Sir  Basil. 

And  that  was  how  the  first  day  of  Leah  Hatton's 
earthly  paradise  began. 


CHAPTER  XVIL 


Half  an  hour  passed,  and  they  were  still  talking  under 
^he  veranda  on  the  western  terrace.  It  seemed  to  Leah 
«ut  a  few  minutes,  and  yet  what  a  change  had  been 
wrought  in  the  time  !  Quite  suddenly,  and  almost  uncon- 
sciously to  her,  the  whole  world  had  changed  for  her — her 
life  had  grown  complete.     But  a  little  while  before  her 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  m 

heart  had  been  desolate.  Despite  the  brilliancy  with 
which  she  had  been  surrounded,  there  was  a  sense  of  chill 
and  loneliness,  of  unrealized  wishes,  of  vague  hopes,  of 
ungratified  desires — a  sense  of  the  emptiness  of  all  things. 
It  had  vanished  as  snow  before  the  sun,  and  a  sweet  har- 
monious sense  of  the  fulness  of  life,  had  taken  possession 
of  her.  She  could  have  stood  for  ever  by  the  passion- 
flowers, looking  at  Sir  Basil  and  listening  to  him  ;  but  the 
general  remembered  the  duties  of  hospitality. 

"You  will  stay  for  the  day  ?  "  he  said.  "  One  of  the 
grooms  can  ride  over  to  Glen  for  anything  you  may  want." 

He  did  not  know  that  his  niece,  whom  the  noblest  and 
jvisest  in  the  land  had  failed  to  win,  was  waiting  with  the 
keenest  anxiety  to  hear  whether  their  guest  would  accep/ 
iier  uncle's  invitation. 

"Leah,"  said  Sir  Arthur,  "perhaps  Sir  Basil  would 
like  some  refreshment  after  his  long  walk.  You  walked 
from  Glen,  I  believe  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  I  came  through  the  woods,"  replied  the  young 
baronet.     "  I  envy  you  those  woods  and  the  river." 

"  If  you  will  take  my  advice.  Sir  Basil,"  said  the  gen- 
eral, "  you  will  have  some  claret-cup.  For  a  warm  morn- 
ing like  this  there  is  nothing  like  it.  I  will  join  you  in  a 
few  minutes — I  have  to  see  my  steward.  Leah,  you  will 
take  Sir  Basil  into  the  house.  When  he  has  had  some  re- 
freshment, he  will  join  the  party  on  the  lawn." 

With  a  smile  for  his  niece  and  a  bow  for  his  guest,  Sir 
Arthur  hastened  away,  leaving  them  alone  together. 

It  seemed  to  Leah  as  though  the  air  throbbed ;  her 
heart  beat  fast,  her  hands  trembled ;  all  the  rest  of  the 
world  had  fallen  from  her,  and  she  stood  alone  with  him. 

"  This  is  a  beautiful  old  place,"  he  said.  "  I  like  the 
river.     What  fanciful  lights  and  shades  there  are  on  it !  " 

The  calm,  quiet  words  brought  her  down  from  an 
exalted  frame  of  mind  to  commonplace  life. 


J12  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

"  It  is  indeed  lovely, "  she  said.  "  Do  you  like  boat- 
ing ?  I  am  very  fond  of  it.  I  have  a  pretty  little  boat  o£ 
my  own,  and  I  spend  many  hours  upon  the  water.  But  I 
must  not  forget  my  uncle's  instructions.  You  must  come 
and  have  some  refreshment.  *' 

She  replaced  the  trailing  sprays  of  the  crimson  flowers 
which  she  had  held  all  this  time  in  her  hands.  She  did 
nothing  in  the  least  degree  unusual,  yet  every  little  inci- 
dent was  vividly  stamped  on  her  mind.  With  the  strange, 
new  feeling  about  her  she  walked  by  his  side  down  the 
long  terrace.     She  took  him  into  the  drawing-room. 

**  Bring  some  light  refreshments — also  some  fruit,"  she 
said  to  a  servant ;  and  with  her  own  hands  she  oifered  him 
some  delicious  grapes. 

She  remembered  every  word  he  uttered,  every  glance^ 
every  movement  of  his ;  and  when  he  had  taken  what  he 
wanted  she  looked  at  him  with  anxious,  happy  eyes. 

"  Shall  we  go  on  to  the  lawn  now  ? "  she  asked. 

"  I  am  quite  at  your  service,  Miss  Hatton.  Have  you 
a  large  party  at  Brentwood  ?  " 

She  looked  at  him  again,  with  the  dreamy,  vacant  gaze 
of  one  who  has  forgotten  everything,  then  remembered 
suddenly,  and  blushed  as  he  had  seen  no  other  woman 
blush  before.  The  first  thought  that  occurred  to  him  was 
that  perhaps  she  had  a  lover  among  the  visitors,  and  was 
shy  of  mentioning  his  name — else  why  that  vivid,  beautiful 
blush?  It  was  gone  now,  and  she  was  smiling  as  she 
spoke. 

**  Not  a  very  large  party,"  she  replied — "  the  Duke  and 
Duchess  of  Rosedene,  old  friends  of  Sir  Arthur's ;  Lady 
Maude  Trevar,  who  is  distantly  related  to  the  duchess  ; 
Colonel  Farquharson,  whom  my  uncle  loves  very  dearly 
because  his  face  is  bronzed  and  he  calls  luncheon  *  tiffin.'  " 

"  Old  Indian  friends,  I  suppose  ?  "  said  Sir  Basil. 

"  Yes,  they  were  inseparable  for  some  years.    There 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  113 

are  also  Captain  Langley  and  a  very  pretty  niece  of  the  old 
Colonel's.     That  completes  the  list." 

"  It  sounds  like  a  very  good  list,  too,"  he  said. 

She  remembered  how  he  held  the  door  open  as  she 
passed,  and  when  the  long  train  of  pale  amber  was  caught 
he  stooped  down  to  free  it.  She  remembered  how  they 
passed  through  the  grand  old  entrance  hall,  and  out  by  the 
side  door  on  to  the  lawn.  The  duchess  was  seated  in  the 
shade  of  the  great  cedar  tree,  with  Lady  Maud  by  her  side, 
and  pretty  May  Luson,  who  was  evidently  ready  for  mis- 
chief. Not  far  from  them  the  colonel — a  fine,  handsome, 
elderly  man,  with  a  long,  gray,  drooping  mustache — was 
enjoying  a  cigar  and  a  newspaper.  Captain  Langley  had 
been  reading  aloud  to  the  ladies,  but  had  been  dismissed, 
because,  as  the  duchess  solemnly  assured  him,  he  had  no 
taste  for  anything  but  humor. 

There  was  some  little  stir  when  Leah,  with  her  hand- 
some cavalier,  appeared.  The  duchess  looked  up  with  a 
smile.  Leah  led  him  to  her  first,  and  her  grace  gave  him 
a  very  kindly  greeting — all  women  were  attracted  to  Sir 
Basil  the  moment  they  saw  him. 

They  passed  on  to  Lady  Maud  Trevar — a  tall,  hand- 
some woman,  somewhat /^^-j"^*?,  but  evidently  bent  upon 
making  the  best  of  herself.  She  received  him  with  a  mix- 
ture of  what  she  intended  to  be  girlish  diffidence  and 
womanly  frankness  ;  both  failing,  the  effect  was  lamentable. 

Captain  Langley  was  very  pleased,  and  pretty  May, 
looking  more  like  a  fair  rosebud  than  anything  else,  laughed 
with  delight. 

*'You  live  at  Glen,  Sir  Basil?"  slie  said.  "  I  have 
seen  a  picture  of  Glen.  There  are  innumerable  fountams 
and  terraces." 

"  I  hope  you  will  honor  me  by  coming  to  see  its  attrac- 
tions," he  responded.  '*The  general  has  promised  raQ 
that  pleasure." 


j,^  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

He  was  quite  at  home  with  them  in  a  few  minutes.  Th6 
colonel — who,  while  he  abused  India,  knew  no  pleasure 
out  of  it — began  to  discuss  with  him  the  probabilities  of  a 
frontier  war.  Captain  Langley  aired  his  grievance — which 
was  that  some  one  most  decidedly  his  inferior  had  been 
promoted  over  his  head — and  revealed  that  he  was  in  a 
state  of  chronic  indignation  about  it. 

In  a  very  short  space  of  time  Lady  Maud  Trevar  de- 
cided that  Sir  Basil  was  worth  any  trouble  to  win.  He 
was  at  home  with  them  all,  and  quite  happy.  The  duchess 
called  him  to  her  side,  and  began  a  long  conversation  with 
him.  She  was  delighted  with  him,  and  considered  him 
quite  an  acquisition.  A  rich  and  handsome  young  baronet 
with  a  fine  estate,  he  would  want  a  wife  ;  and  already  she 
had  begun  to  think  of  those  of  her  acquaintance  who  were 
eligible  for  the  post.  She  regretted  that  Lady  Maud  was 
old  2LXi^passee;  her  thoughts  never  went  to  Leah. 

Leah  had  called  to  mind  not  once,  but  a  hundred  times, 
that  he  was  to  be  with  them  the  whole  day.  She  sat  watch, 
ing  him  with  contented,  happy  eyes,  with  a  light  on  her 
beautiful  face,  as  he  went  from  one  to  another,  thinking 
there  was  no  other  like  him. 

During  the  afternoon  the  duchess  called  Leah  aside. 

"  Leah,"  she  said,  ''  we  must  do  something  to  entertain 
your  young  neighbor.  I  do  not  like  to  see  his  handsome 
face  shadowed  by  melancholy.     What  can  we  do  \ " 

"  We  will  do  anything  that  you  suggest,"  replied  Leah. 

Something  in  her  voice  made  the  duchess  look  up. 

"  Leah,  child,"  she  said,  "  what  have  you  been  doing  to 
yourself  ? " 

"  Nothing,"  replied  Leah. 

**  Nothing  ?  Nonsense  ! "  said  the  duchess,  energetically. 
•*  I  could  almost  believe  that  you  had  been  rouging !  " 

'•  I  have  done  nothing  of  the  kind,"  replied  Leah,  half 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  xi% 

indignant,  half  amused.     "  Why  do  you  say  such  a  thing  to 
nie  r 

*'  My  dear  child,  I  perceive  a  change  in  you.  A  new 
soul  shines  out  of  your  eyes ;  your  face  is  transfigured  !  It 
nas  struck  me  at  times  that  you  had  a  restless  expression,  as 
though  the  world  did  not  quite  answer  to  your  wishes.  It  has 
gone  now.  You  look  as  though  your  heart  had  awakened." 
She  wondered  still  more  when  she  saw  a  crimson  blush 
cover  the  beautiful  face.  "  What  is  it,  Leah  ?  You  have 
always  trusted  me.  You  may  say  what  you  will,  but  I  am 
quite  certain  that  there  is  something  which  would  account 
for  the  change  in  you.  Why,  what  happy  eyes  you  have  ! 
I  never  saw  the  golden  gleam  in  them  so  plainly  as  I  do 
this  morning." 

With  all  her  keen  sagacity  and  worldly  knowledge,  it 
was  wonderful  that  she  did  not  connect  the  coming  of  the 
stran.^er  with  the  change  in  Leah. 

■'  Never  mind,"  said  the  duchess.  "  You  will  not  tell 
me,  Leah  ;  but  I  shall  find  it  out.  I  know  that  an  offer 
of  marriage  rather  annoys  you  than  not,  or  I  should 
think  you  had  received  one  this  morning,  and  it  had  pleased 
you." 

"  1  would  tell  you  if  it  were  so,  duchess,"  said  Leah, 
"  I  look  happy  because — well,  because  I  am  happy.  Have 
you  ever  seen  a  sky  so  blue,  the  earth  so  fair  ?  Did  the 
birds  ever  sing  as  they  sing  this  morning.'*  Were  the 
flowers  ever  so  sweet  ?  Something — I  do  not  know  what 
it  is — something  has  occurred  which  seems  to  have  brought 
me  unutterable  happiness." 

.  "  It  is  worse  even  than  I  thought,"  remarked  the  duchess. 
"  Come  and  take  this  chair.  Let  us  talk  prose,  not  poetry, 
and  decide  upon  what  we  can  do  to  amuse  your  young 
neighbor.  I  like  him,  Leah.  I  shall  not  rest  until  the 
melancholy  has  left  his  face,  and  I  see  the  brightness  that 
belongs  to  youth  shining  there." 


Xi6  A  £iiOK£N  WEDDING-RING. 


CHAPTER  XVIIL 

The  day  passed,  as  the  days  always  do,  whether  they 
be  shortened  by  happiness  or  lengthened  by  sorrow,  but 
Leah  Hatton  kept  no  account  of  the  hours.  All  that  was 
taking  place  was  a  dream  to  her ;  the  only  effort  she  could 
make  was  to  prevent  other  people  from  guessing  her  secret. 
He  had  come — the  fairy  prince  who  was  to  wake  her  from 
her  long  sleep  ;  but  the  world  need  not  know  it — must  not 
know  it.  It  would  think  her  mad — this  wary,  keen,  wise 
old  world  that  laughs  at  the  sweet  follies  of  youth. 

She  had  surrendered  her  mind  to  a  host  of  beautiful 
but  unreal  fancies ;  they  had  made  the  brightest  part  of 
her  life.  To  any  other  than  herself  they  would  have  seemed 
absurd  ;  yet  she  had  firm  faith  in  them.  She  believed  in 
this  ideal  lover  of  hers,  who  was  looking  for  her  in  the 
world  just  as  she  was  waiting  for  him.  She  had  nursed 
herself  in  the  belief  that  she  would  recognize  him  the  mo- 
ment she  saw  him,  and  it  seemed  to  her  that  she  had  done  so. 

Hundreds  of  handsome  faces  had  passed  before  her 
eyes,  but  not  one  had  touched  her  heart  until  now.  When 
she  saw  Sir  Basil's  she  recognized  it ;  a  strange,  magnetic  in- 
fluence seemed  to  come  over  her ;  in  the  depths  of  her  heart 
she  said  to  herself :  "  I  have  met  my  fate."  But  now  she 
must  hide  her  secret,  lest  the  laughing  wicked  world  should 
be  amused  by  it.  She  never  thought  of  Sir  Basil's  part 
in  the  matter,  whether  he  shared  her  feelings  and  fancies ; 
she  was  too  much  engrossed  with  her  own. 

The  day  went  on,  and  she  spent  almost  every  moment 
of  it  with  him — a  lovely  day,  that  grew  brighter  and  fairer 
with  every  hour  that  passed. 

That  evening  she  stood  in  her  dressing-room,  the  pietty 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  n^ 

Parisian  maid  looking  at  her  in  something  like  wonder. 
Miss  Hatton  had  most  exquisite  taste,  and  liked  always  to 
be  well  dressed ;  but  on  this  evening  it  seemed  as  if  it  were 
impossible  to  please  her.  Dress  after  dress  was  discarded ; 
she  could  not  choose  her  jewels. 

"  Take  those  diamonds  away,"  she  said,  and  the  superb 
suite  of  rubies  and  pearls  were  not  pleasing  to  her.  On 
the  toilet  table,  intermixed  with  crystal  and  silver  and  richly- 
cut  Bohemian  glass,  were  some  clusters  of  scarjet  passion- 
dowers.     She  would  wear  them,  and  not  the  jewels. 

The  Parisienne  sighed.  They  would  look  very  beauti- 
ful, but  they  would  give  her  an  immense  deal  of  trouble. 

Leah  had  a  fancy  that  she  would  like  to  be  dressed  af- 
ter the  fashion  of  her  picture ;  but  the  black  velvet  looked 
to  warm  arid  heavy  for  this  bright  summer  night.  At  last 
she  chose  a  dress  of  white  shining  silk,  soft  and  fine,  and 
and  with  it  she  wore  nothing  but  passion-flowers.  They 
crowned  her  dark,  beautiful  head,  and  glowed  like  flames 
against  her  white  neck ;  great  trailing  sprays  fastened  the 
folds  of  her  dress. 

"  They  look  far  more  beautiful  than  jewels,"  said  the 
maid ;  *'  but  will  they  live,  madam  ?  " 

"  They  will  live  as  long  as  I  need  then,"  answered 
Leah.  It  seemed  to  her  that  the  flowers  she  wore  to  please 
him  could  never  die. 

"  I  think,  madam,"  said  the  maid,  as  she  arranged  the 
tall  Pysche  mirror,  "  if  you  will  look  now,  you  will  be 
pleased." 

Pleased  ?  She  flushed  crimson  as  she  saw  the  reflection 
of  her  own  most  radiant  beauty.  She  was  glad  to  be 
beautiful ;  she  rejoiced  in  her  own  loveliness.  The  dark 
waves  of  rippling  hair  with  their  crown  of  scarlet  flowers, 
the  exquisite  face  with  its  fair  bloom,  the  white  graceful 
throat  and  white  shoulders,  the  perfect  arms  and  hands, 
the  figure  so  replete  with  sweet,  stately,  subtle  grace,  gi^ve 


Ilg  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

her  infinite  delight.     She  was  child  enough  to  fciss  het 
warm,  white  arms,  and  to  smile  at  the  picture  in  her  mirror, 

"  I  wonder,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  if  he  will  find  me 
fair  ? " 

There  were  still  some  minutes  before  the  second  bell 
would  ring ;  she  would  not  go  down  until  the  flush  had  de- 
parted from  her  cheeks  and  the  sweet,  happy  expression  of 
her  eyes  told  less,  or  the  duchess  would  soon  discover  her 
secret.  She  looked  from  her  open  window  to  the  running 
river,  and  snatches  of  song  rose  to  her  lips.  She  could 
have  fancied  that  even  the  river  knew  what  had  happened 
to-day;  the  waters  laughed  and  flashed  in  the  setting  sun. 
Oh !  happy  day,  day,  to  be  remembered,  for  it  stood  out 
from  her  life  as  a  bright  star  in  the  dark  sky  ! 

"  The  sixth  of  August,"  she  said  to  herself ;  "  I  shall 
never  forget  the  date.  I  have  been  in  the  world  twenty- 
two  years,  but  I  have  never  lived  until  to-day." 

Then  the  bell  rang,  and  she  went  down  into  the  draw- 
ing-room. More  than  one  present  drew  a  deep  breath  of 
silent  admiration.  The  general  thought  he  had  never  seen 
his  niece  look  so  well ;  and  the  duchess  said  to  herself, 
*  Something  has  come  to  the  child :  it  is  useless  for  her  to 
deny  it." 

Sir  Basil,  too,  looked  at  her  in  wonder.  He  had  been 
attracted  by  her  appearance  as  she  stood  on  the  terrace  ; 
but  now  the  sense  of  her  great  loveliness  came  over  him 
and  struck  him  almost  dumb.  He  took  her  down  to  dinner, 
wondering  that  he  had  not  been  more  impressed  before, 
and  he  talked  more  to  her  than  he  had  previously. 

The  dinner-party  was  a  pleasant  one.  Leah  was  a 
charming  hostess  ,  and  a  more  agreeable,  hospitable,  en- 
tertaining host  than  General  Hatton  it  would  have  been 
almost  impossible  to  find. 

When  the  ladies  returned  to  the  drawing-room,  the 
duchess  took  up  a  book,  with  some  little  hope  of  disguis* 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  hq 

iwg  the  fact  that  she  was  going  to  sleep ;  Lady  Maude  had 
several  secrets  to  talk  over  with  pretty  May  Luson ;  so 
that  Leah  was  alone.  She  tried  to  steady  her  thoughts, 
but  she  could  not — they  were  all  chaos.  She  tried  to  still 
the  throbbing  of  her  heart ;  it  was  impossible.  The  girl's 
every  nerve  was  strained.  The  long  French  windows  were 
wide  open.  She  stood  near  one  of  them  to  see  if  the  fresh 
evening  air  would  drive  away  the  thick  crowding  thoughts 
and  fancies  from  her  brain,  and  presently  a  voice  near  her 
said, — 

"  How  plainly  you  can  see  the  river  from  here,  Miss 
Hatton  !  " 

She  raised  her  dark  dreamy  eyes  to  Sir  BasiFs. 

"I  often  wonder,"  she  returned,  "what  I  should  do  if 
I  had  to  live  where  there  was  no  river.  I  should  miss  it 
so  much.  I  look  at  it  always  the  first  thing  in  the  morning 
and  the  last  at  night.     It  is  a  friend  and  companion  to  me." 

"  I  am  of  your  opinion ;  no  landscape  is  perfect  to  me 
without  water.  I  have  a  childish  love  of  water,  from  the 
great  wild  tossing  ocean  down  to  the  tiniest  lakelet,  The 
sound  of  its  falling  or  dripping  or  rushing,  as  the  river 
rushes  there,  is  the  most  charming  music  in  Nature.  While 
I  was  in  Italy,  I  had  a  terrible  fever,  and  for  many  days  I 
was  quite  delirious — I  may  say  mad  ;  and  during  the  whole 
time  what  do  you  think  my  fancy  was  ?  "  The  face  raised 
to  his  was  full  of  interest.  "  I  thought  I  was  lying  by  a 
beautiful  waterfall,  under  the  shadow  of  great  trees  with 
spreading  boughs.  I  could  hear  the  dripping  of  the  water 
and  the  soft  splash  as  it  fell  into  the  rocky  basin  below  ; 
but,  when  I  stretched  out  my  hands  to  touch  it,  it  was  boil- 
ing— when  I  bent  my  head  over  the  rocky  basin  and  tried 
to  drink  it  with  my  hands,  it  scalded  me.  Was  not  that  a 
most  uncomfortable  delirium  ? '  '' 

"  Yes  I  should  imagine  so ;  but  I  hardly  understand 
what  delirium  is  like," 


,2o  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

"  Have  you  ever  indulged  in  a  strong  fancy,*'  he  asked 
— "  so  strong  that  you  hardly  knew  the  fancy  from  reality  ?  " 

Before  she  had  time  to  answer  him,  a  flood  of  crimson 
overspread  her  face ;  and  he  wondered  to  himself  why  this 
proud  young  beauty  blushed  so  deeply  for  nothing.  Even 
had  he  known  her  fancies,  he  would  not  perhaps  have  un- 
derstood them. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied  slowly ;  "  I  know  what  a  very  strong 
and  vivid  fancy  is.     It  grows  into  a  belief." 

"  All  delirium  is  belief  for  the  time,"  he  said. 

Then  he  made  way  for  the  duchess,  who  roused  by  the 
entrance  of  a  gentleman,  had  come  toward  the  open  windo\5 
in  search  of  fresh  air. 

"  We  shall  have  a  beautiful  moon  to-night,"  she  said, 
looking  up  at  the  rosy  sky,  over  which  the  gray  shades  of 
night  were  beginning  to  steal.  "  I  like  a  full,  bright  moon. 
Leah,  you  look  like  a— a  poem,  with  all  those  passion-flowers. 
Does  she  not,  Sir  Basil  ?  " 

"  Miss  Hatton  is  a  poem,"  he  replied. 

The  words  were  earnestly  spoken,  although  he  meant 
nothing  by  them.  They  made  the  heart  of  the  girl  by  his 
side  thrill  with  happiness. 

"  People  have  such  different  tastes,"  continued  the 
duchess.  "  I  do  not  like  passion-flowers ;  they  always 
seem  to  me  mysterious  and  melancholy.  I  like  the  smil- 
ing beauty  of  a  hundred  leaved  rose." 

"  It  is  strange,"  said  Sir  Basil ;  "  but  I  like  passion- 
flowers better  than  any  other  flower  that  blooms." 

Leah  turned  her  telltale  blushing  face  away.  The  duchess 
laughed. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  said  ; "  I  cannot  quite  believe 
my  own  ears.  Would  you  mind  repeating  what  you  have 
just  said?" 

"I  like  passion-flowers  better  than  any  other  flower 
that  blooms,"  he  repeated.     "  I  learned  to  love  them  in 


A  BROICEN  WEDDING-RING,  121 

Italy,  where  they  grow  in  wild,  beautiful  profusion — they 
look  at  their  best  when  they  cling  round  the  old  stone 
crosses  and  ruined  shrines  one  sees  continually.  I  think 
an  old  gray  cross,  covered  with  crimson  passion-flowers, 
is  one  of  the  prettiest  pictures  in  the  world." 

"  Ah  I"  said  the  duchess,  slowly — her  mind  was  open, 
ing  to  a  certain X  truth.  "  Do  you  remember,  Leah,  what 
we  said  this  morning  about  passion-flowers  ? "  she  asked, 
teasingly. 

But  Leah  would  not  look  at  the  duchess,  and  would  not 
answer  her.  ' 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


The  general  had  arranged  for  the  whole  party  at  Brent- 
Wood  to  go  over  to  Glen  in  a  day  or  two, 

"  I  think,"  Sir  Basil  had  said,  "  that,  if  I  could  hear  the 
sound  of  happy  voices  and  laughter  once  more  in  the  old 
hall,  it  would  ceased  to  be  haunted." 

So  the  kindly  duchess  settled  that  they  should  go  and 
do  their  best  to  be  happy  and  bright.  They  were  to  drive 
over  in  time  for  luncheon,  spend  the  afternoon  in  looking 
over  the  house  and  grounds,  dine,  and  return  home  in  the 
cool  of  the  evening. 

Sir  Basil  was  anxious  with  regard  to  the  entertainment 
of  his  guests. 

"  It  is  quite  a  new  thing  for  me  to  have  visitors,"  he 
said,  to  Leah.  "  My  mother's  health  was  so  delicate,  we 
received  no  friends  in  Italy." 

"  I  am  sure  we  shall  all  be  happy,"  returned  Leah^ 
brightly.  To  her  it  seemed  as  though  she  were  going  to 
spend  the  day  in  some  earthly  paradise.  "  I  long  to  see 
Glen,"  she  added.     "  \  have  heard  so  much  of  it," 


122  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

"  I  wish  that  more  pleasant  memaries  hung  over  it,' 
he  said  mournfully. 

And  she,  raising  her  lovely  face  to  his,  said, — 

"  We  must  drive  the  unpleasant  ones  away  for  you  and 
put  other  and  happier  in  their  place." 

**  You  will  do  that,"  he  declared,  warmly,  "  if  you  come 
often." 

And,  althoug..  tne  words  meant  so  little,  her  heart 
thrilled  with  joy  at  hearing  them. 

She  counted  the  hours  until  the  day  came  ;  and  again 
the  patience  of  the  maid  was  most  severely  tried. 

Leah  Hatton  never  looked  more  radiant  and  lovely 
than  on  the  day  when  she  went  to  see  the  home  of  the  man 
wi;h  whom  she  had  fallen  in  love.  Over  a  dress  of  pale, 
cool  amber  she  wore  rich  black  lace,  and  on  her  head  was 
"  a  broad-brimmed  hat  with  rich  drooping  plume — a  hat  that 
threw  a  shade  on  the  bewitching  face,  softened  it,  and 
made  it  more  charming  than  ever.  She  had  no  ornaments, 
but  she  wore  a  Marechal  Neil  rose  at  her  throat.  The 
summer  day  itself  was  not  more  fair. 

The  duchess  had  been,  she  persuaded  herself,  the  very 
perfection  of  discretion.  Since  the  little  episode  of  the 
passion-flower  she  had  made  no  allusion  to  Sir  Basil.  She 
was  quick  to  see  and  understand.  Without  hearing  a  word 
she  knew  that  this  girl  who  had  been  as  ice  and  marble 
to  all  lovers  looked  on  Sir  Basil  with  very  different  eyes. 
She  remembered  the  words  she  had  thought  so  foolish, 
yet  which  now  seemed  so  true.  "  I  shall  know  him  when 
I  meet  him,"  Leah  had  said.  *'  I  shall  recognize  him  the 
first  moment  my  eyes  fall  on  his  face."  She  had  laughed 
at  the  words  and  at  the  idea,  but  she  laughed  no  longer. 
Could  it  be  true — was  it  possible — that  in  Sir  Basil  this 
proud,  cold  girl  had  found  the  ideal  she  had  waited  for  ? 
The  duchess  was  almost  frightened. 

**  I  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  it  in  any  way,"  shf 


A  BROKEN-  WEDDING-RING.  123 

said  to  herself.  "  I  am  not  superstitious,  but  Leah  has 
made  me  afraid.  Supposing  that  she  loves  this  man  with 
all  her  heart,  and  that  he  does  not  love  her?  No;  I  will 
not  hurry  it  on  or  help  it  by  word  or  look." 

She  watched  and  saw  enough.  She  noticed  that,  heed- 
less of  what  Sir  Basil  thought  or  felt  about  it,  Leah  was 
learning  to  love  him  with  all  her  heart.  She  was  a  differ- 
ent being  ;  the  calm  and  repose  of  true  happiness  had  come 
to  her ;  there  was  no  more  restlessness.  Day  by  day,  her 
beauty,  under  this  new  influence,  grew  more  spiritual.  Sir 
Basil  admired  Miss  Hatton.  He  thought  her  beautiful  and 
gifted  ;  he  enjoyed  long  conversations  with  her ;  he  praised 
her  voice  and  her  singing;  he  liked  to  tell  her  all  his 
thoughts  and  exchange  ideas  with  her.  But  the  duchess, 
in  her  own  mind,  decided  that  as  yet  he  was  not  in  love 
with  Leah,  although  it  was  very  probable  that  he  soon 
would  be.  **  How  is  it,"  thought  her  grace,  "  that  he  does 
not  find  it  out  ?  The  girl's  voice  takes  a  different  tone 
when  she  speaks  to  him,  and  her  face  is  transfigured.  But 
men  are  proverbially  blind ! " 

As  they  started  on  this  fair  morning  for  Glen,  the 
duchess  wondered  whether,  on  Sir  Basil's  seeing  Leah  in 
his  own  home,  it  would  occur  to  him  that  it  would  be  an 
excellent  thing  to  have  her  there  altogether — to  ask  her  to 
be  the  mistress  of  the  place  he  loved  so  well,  but  from 
which  he  had  been  exiled  so  long.  It  was  a  suggestive 
situation  certainly.  The  kindly  heart  of  the  duchess  grew 
interested  in  the  affair.  It  would  be  a  terrible  thing  for 
Leah  to  love  without  being  loved.  "  She  has  just  one  of 
those  passionate,  poetical,  impulsive  natures  that  will  lead 
her  to  love  madly,  and  to  die  if  she  loves  in  vain,"  she  said 
to  herself.  She  watched  the  bright  rapturous  look  on  the 
exquisite  face.  "  Heaven  send  the  girl  her  heart's  desire  I  '* 
said  the  duchess,  and  her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 


134  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RTNC, 

Sir  Basil  stood  at  the  outer  gate  of  the  park  to  meet 
them. 

"Welcome,"  he  said — "  welcome  to  Glen ! " 

He  walked  by  the  side  of  the  carriage  which  held  the 
duchess  and  Leah.  The  duchess  was  pleased  to  see  that 
he  pointed  out  all  the  beauties  of  the  place  to  Leah,  and 
listened  with  interest  to  her  remarks.  She  had  been  am- 
bitious for  Leah  once  upon  a  time  ;  she  had  hoped  to  see 
her  a  duchess ;  she  had  hoped  that  she  would  make  some 
wonderful  marriage.  But  now  she  felt  that  the  best  thing 
would  be  for  her  h^zyx'CiiyjX  protegee  to  marry  for  love.  Sir 
Basil  would  be  an  excellent  match  for  her.  He  was  wealthy ; 
even  if  he  were  not,  Leah  would  have  so  much  money  her- 
self that  there  was  no  need  for  her  to  make  it  a  considera- 
tion in  marrying.  The  young  baronet  was  gifted  with 
every  good  quality.  She  might  certainly,  with  her  brilliant 
beauty  and  grand  prospects,  have  done  much  better ;  but 
she  might  also  have  done  worse.  With  a  girl  of  that  kind, 
full  of  romance  and  fancies  and  strange  ideas,  the  first  con- 
sideration was  her  happiness. 

She  was  startled  from  her  thoughts  by  a  sudden  ex- 
clamation from  Leah ;  her  face  had  grown  pale,  as  it  did  al- 
ways in  times  of  great  emotion. 

*'  Look,  duchess,"  she  cried,  "  what  a  beautiful  pic- 
ture ! " 

The  approach  to  Glen  was  through  a  magnificent  avenue 
of  beech-trees  ;  they  were  not  to  be  surpassed  for  size  and 
beauty  in  the  county.  The  avenue  was  wide  and  well 
kept,  the  grass  green  and  smooth,  and,  when  it  terminated, 
the  full  glories  of  Glen  were  to  be  seen.  Now,  with  the 
sunlight  falling  upon  it,  it  was  dazzling  to  the  eyes  of  those 
who  viewed  it.  The  house  itself  was  built  of  red  stone, 
with  white  facings,  and  the  front  of  it  was  ornamented  with 
rich,  quaint  carvings.  There  was  a  terrace  gay  with  white 
and  scarlet  blossoms,  a  broad  flight  of  steps,  ornamented 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 


«S 


With  huge  vases  and  fine  statues,  leading  to  the  gardens 
below.  In  the  gardens  were  several  superb  fountains,  the 
silvery  spray  of  which  rose  high  in  the  air  and  glistened  in 
the  sunlight ;  the  flowers  were  of  every  imaginable  hue. 
The  whole  formed  a  picture  so  brilliant  that  even  the 
duchess  could  not  refrain  from  a  cry  of  delight. 

"  It  is  the  most  beautiful  place  I  have  ever  seen,"  she 
said. 

"  You  would  not  think  it  was  darkened  by  a  tragedy," 
observed  Sir  Basil. 

*'  Nor  is  it,"  said  the  duchess,  quickly.  "  Life  and 
death  are  everywhere  side  by  side.  You  must  try  to  for^ 
get ;  think  of  the  bright  side." 

Etiquette  compelled  Sir  Basil  to  give  the  duchess  his 
arm  as  he  led  the.  way  up  the  broad  marble  steps.  She 
looked  at  the  statues  with  admiration. 

**  This  reminds  one  of  Italy,"  said  Leah — "  fountains, 
flowers  and  marble  statues." 

lie  turned  to  her  eagerly. 

**  You  like  it,  then  ?  "  he  asked,  anxiously.  "  I  thinly 
it  is  beautiful,  and  I  am  pleased  that  you  agree  with  me." 

They  passed  into  the  entrance-hall,  with  its  deep 
groined  roof,  its  old-fashioned  stained-glass  windows  and 
armor,  its  stained  oak  flooring  and  exotics. 

With  graceful  courtesy  Sir  Basil  bade  them  welcome ; 
and  Leah,  looking  at  his  face,  saw  that  it  was  deadly  pale. 

*'  Was  this  the  place,"  she  asked,  "  where  the  acci- 
dent  '' 

"  Yes,"  he  replied ;  "  it  was  here  that  -my  poor  sister 
rushed,  enveloped  in  flames  ;  and  just  here  where  these 
white  lilies  stand,  she  fell  down  to  die.  By  my  mother's 
orders  they  are  kept  there.  Whenever  I  pass,  I  seem  to 
see  the  flying  figure  again,  and  hear  my  sister's  cry." 

Leah  stepped  forward  and  stood  by  the  white  lilies. 


,26  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

"  Look  at  me,"  she  said,  flushing  slightly,  **  as  I  stand 
here  ;  it  will  fill  your  mind  with  fresh  thoughts." 

"  It  may  well  do  so,"  thought  the  duchess,  as  she 
noticed  the  unconscious  grace  and  beauty  of  the  girl's  atti- 
tude. Would  he  ever,  as  he  passed  through  the  hall 
where  his  fair  young  sister  had  met  so  sad  a  fate,  forget  the 
girl  now  standing  there  with  her  pleading  passionate  face, 
trying  to  make  sweet  what  had  been  so  bitter  to  him  ? 

"  Thank  you,"  he  replied,  simply.  "  You  have  been 
kind  to  me.  Miss  Hatton,  from  the  first  happy  moment  I 
saw  you  ;  you  add  to  your  goodness  by  giving  me  a  pleasant 
memory." 

Leah's  face  showed  her  delight ;  it  was  indeed  pleasant 
to  her  to  hear  such  words  of  commendation  from  him.  But 
the  duchess  said  to  herself,  "  Pretty  little  scene — senti- 
mental enough  ;  but  there  is  no  love,  Sir  Basil,  on  your 
side." 

Then  the  other  visitors  reached  the  hall.  There  was  a 
discussion  as  to  the  roof  and  the  armor,  and  as  to  the  date 
of  a  fine  old  window,  and  then  they  passed  on  to  the 
library.  Sir  Basil  made  a  charming  and  hospitable  host. 
As  the  day  wore  on,  Leah  was  pleased  to  see  that  his  face 
brightened,  and  that  several  times  it  lost  the  melancholy 
expression  that  had  seemed  like  a  cloud  over  it.  He  was 
very  attentive  to  her ;  he  lingered  by  her  side,  and  showed 
her  the  chief  objects  of  attraction. 

The  duchess  summed  up  the  whole  situation  briefly. 
Leah  had  loved  him  at  first  sight ;  but,  if  ever  he  learned 
to  love  her,  it  would  be  after  months  of  friendship. 

That  day  spent  at  Glen  was  one  of  the  happiest  in  Leah's 
life,  and  the  memory  of  it  was  to  her  like  a  strain  of  sweet 
music  in  which  there  was  no  discord. 


A  BROKKN^  WEDDU\'(j-RiNQ,  j  27 


CHAPTER  XX. 

As  the  days  passed  on,  the  intimacy  between  Leah  and 
the  baronet  increased.  The  general  grew  warmly  attached 
to  Sir  Basil.  He  said — what  was  a  great  thing  for  him  to 
say — that,  if  Heaven  had  blessed  him  with  a  son,  he  should 
have  liked  him  to  resemble  Sir  Basil.  All  the  visitors — 
and  they  were  many — admired  and  liked  him ;  he  was  a 
general  favorite,  and  he  spent  far  more  of  his  time  at 
Brentwood  than  at  Glen. 

With  every  day  that  dawned,  with  every  sun  that  rose 
and  set,  with  every  bright  moon  that  waxed  and  waned, 
Leah's  love  deepened.  The  world  was  as  nothing  to  her; 
she  became  absorbed  in  this  one  passion — it  was  her  life, 
her  all.  There  are  some  to  whom  this  fatal  gift  of  a  great 
love  is  given.  They  are  the  happiest,  even  as  they  are 
the  most  miserable  ;  they  reach  the  highest  bliss  that  life 
offers,  and  they  know  the  most  bitter  of  its  pains.  No  one 
v.'arned  Leah.  The  duchess  looked  on  interested,  as  she 
would  have  been  in  any  trial  of  skill  or  any  struggle  for 
mastership.  She  did  not  interfere  either  by  word  or  look. 
She  knew  it  was  useless.  She  never  ceased  wondering 
how  it  was  that  Leah,  who  had  refused  some  of  the  best 
offers  in  England,  had  given  her  heart  and  soul  at  first 
sight  to  this  man. 

Leah  was  hardly  the  same  girl  in  Sir  Basil's  presence  ; 
her  face,  her  voice,  her  manner  changed  completely  ;  her 
love  transfigured  her.  If  he  touched  her  dress  in  passing, 
she  trembled ;  if  he  touched  her  hand  in  greeting,  she 
grew  pale  as  the  petal  of  a  white  lily  ;  when  she  sung  to 
him.  all  the  pent-up  passion  of  her  soul  seemed  to  go  out 
to  him.  Such  a  world  of  love  lay  in  the  dark  eyes  !  It  would 
have  been  a  thousand  times  better  for  Leah  had  she  never 
5 


laS  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

had  such  a  pretty  theory  as  that  of  souls  meeting,  or  filled 
her  mind  with  ideal  notions.  No  misgivings  came  to  her, 
no  doubt,  or  fear.  She  never  asked  herself  whether  her 
great  love  would  be  returned,  she  never  asked  herself  how 
it  would  end  ;  she  lived  entirely  in  the  present,  each  day 
full  of  happiness,  of  interest,  of  the  beauty  and  glory 
of  the  passion  that  possessed  her.  She  had  forgotten  that 
they  would  soon  leave  Brentwood,  she  had  forgotten  that 
they  were  going  to  Dene  Abbey  ;  she  had  forgotten  every- 
thing, except  that  Sir  Basil  was  near  her  and  that  she  loved 
him.  Every  dream,  every  wish  of  her  life  was  realized ; 
there  was  no  more  to  desire.  She  would  have  been  quite 
content  to  lie  down  in  the  light  of  her  great  love  and  die. 
It  seemed  to  her  that  all  her  life  had  been  ordered  for  this. 
Now  she  had  reached  the  haven  of  rest,  never  thinking 
that  the  storms  in  the  haven  might  be  greater  than  those 
on  the  open  sea. 

It  happens  so  often  that  a  great  love  is  lavished  in  vain. 
Sir  Basil  saw  nothing  of  Leah's.  He  admired  her  exceed- 
ingly, but  he  never  dreamed  of  loving  her.  He  would 
have  done  anything  for  her ;  he  had  the  kindly  affection 
of  a  brother  for  her ;  ever  since  she  had  stood  by  the  white 
lilies  in  the  hall,  in  the  spot  where  his  fair  young  sister  had 
died,  she  had  to  him  in  some  measure  taken  that  dead 
sister's  place.  He  confided  everything  to  her,  told  her,  of 
all  his  affairs,  sought  her  advice,  was  happy  in  her  society, 
never  rested  long  away  from  her,  thought  of  her  with  con- 
tinual kindly  affection ;  but  of  love  he  never  dreamed. 

The  duchess,  who  had  said  to  herself  that  she  would 
not  interfere,  did  just  this  one  thing — she  told  Sir  Basil  of 
the  splendid  triumphs  that  Leah  had  achieved,  and  how  she 
had  passed  through  three  such  seasons  as  few  even  of  the 
most  brilliant  beauties  had  ever  experienced.  She  told 
of  the  offers  of  marriage  made  to  her,  and  how  she  had  re- 
fused them  all. 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  12^ 

**  Why  did  she  refuse  them  ? "  he  asked. 

The  duchess  meant  to  do  a  kindly  action  when  she  ans- 
wered : 

"She  has  ideas  that  are  peculiar  for  the  nineteenth 
century ;  they  are,  I  may  say,  obsolete." 

He  looked  anxiously  at  her,  she  thought. 

"  What  ideas,"  he  asked — "  if  my  question  may  be  ans- 
wered ? " 

"  I  am  sure  I  may  answer  it,"  said  the  duchess.  "  Miss 
Hatton  has  romantic  ideas  that  are  quite  out  of  date. 
Marriage,  in  these  days,  is  an  arrangement.  She  might 
have  been  Countess  of  Barberry  if  she  had  liked ;  but  she 
is  romantic,  and  will  never  marry  until  she  can  marry  for 
love." 

"  That  seems  to  me  right,"  said  Sir  Basil. 

"  I  am  glad  you  think  so,"  returned  the  duchess,  dryly. 
**  But  Miss  Hatton  has  another  theory.  It  is  this  —that 
for  every  person  in  this  world  there  are  one  love  and  one 
lover — ^half  souls,  she  calls  them,  if  you  can  understand  the 
terms.  She  believes  that  she  will  recognize  her  half  soul 
or  lover  whenever  she  sees  him." 

"  It  is  a  very  pretty  theor}',"  said  Sir  Basil.  "  I  do  not 
see  why  any  one  should  object  to  it."  He  looked  at  her 
somewhat  eagerly  as  he  asked :  "  And  has  she  met  this 
ideal  yet  ? " 

**  That  is  a  question  she  alone  can  answer.  You  must 
ask  her  yourself,"  laughed  the  duchess ;  and  she  smiled 
to  herself  as  she  thought  she  had  given  him  a  very  plain 
hint. 

The  young  baronet  was  far  too  modest  to  take  it ;  that 
such  a  peerless  beauty,  such  a  wealthy  heiress,  should  fall 
in  love  with  and  find  her  ideal  in  him  never  occurred  to 
him.  If  she  had  rejected  many  noble  and  great  men,  she 
was  doubtless  looking  for  some  one  higher.  Yet  what  he 
had  heard  increased  his  affection  and  respect  for  her.     He 


13©  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

liked  the  idea  of  a  girl  who  could  make  to  herself  an  idealj 
and  wait  patiently  until  she  met  with  it.  How  many  would 
have  yielded  to  the  temptation  of  rank  and  wealth,  and 
have  forgotten  the  belief  and  aspirations  of  early  girl- 
hood! 

"We  have  been  here  at  Brentwood  a  month  next 
Wednesday,"  said  the  duchess  to  Leah,  one  morning. 
"  We  go  to  Dene  Abbey  next  week." 

Leah  looked  up  at  her  with  eyes  that  did  not  see. 

"Next  week  I"  she  repeated;  and  it  seemed  to  her 
that  the  sunlight  faded.  Next  week  she  would  see  Sir 
Basil  no  more.     "  I  had  forgotten  it,"  she  said  slowly. 

"  That  is  not  very  complimentary  to  me,  Leah,  nor  to  the 
ftdmirers  who  will  come  'o  Dene  to  meet  you." 

"  I  do  not  want  any  admirers,  duchess,"  she  said. 

"  No,"  laughed  the  duchess ;  "  better  one  true  lover 
than  a  host  of  admirers." 

Leah  walked  to  the  open  window,  and  looked  out  upon 
ihe  terrace  where  she  had  stood  on  the  morning  en  which  Sir 
Basil  had  first  come  to  Brentwood.  The  passion-flowers 
were  still  in  bloom.  She  remembered  the  sudden  revela- 
tion that  had  come  to  her  when  she  had  loc!<ed  into  his 
face.  Was  there  to  be  an  end  now  of  all  the  light  and 
brightness  that  had  surrounded  her  since  ? 

The  duchess  looked  anxiously  at  her.  Leah's  face  was 
deadly  pale  in  the  glowing  sunlight. 

**  The  girl's  lieart  is  sick,"  thought  the  kindly  woman, 
'*  and  in  all  the  wide  world  no  one  knows  the  secret  but  me. 
What  can  I  do  for  her  ? " 

Suddenly  her  face  brightened.  She  rose  from  her  seat 
and  went  over  to  Leah.  The  pale  face  was  half  hidden  by 
the  climbing  roses  that  came  in  at  the  window. 

"  I  having  been  thinking,  Leah/'  she  said,  "  that  n  seems 
a  pity  to  break  up  this  pleasant  party  here.    I  like  Lady 


j4  broken  WEDDING-RING'  131 

Maude,  and  pretty  May  is  a  very  sweet  girl.  I  do  not 
care  about  the  military  element,  but  I  shall  ask  Lady 
Maude  and  May  to  go  with  us.  That  will  be  very  pleas- 
ant ;  will  it  not  ?  " 

"Yes,"  replied  Leah,  coldly.  The  pain  at  her  heart 
was  so  bitter,  so  keen  that  it  was  with  difficulty  she  ans- 
wered  at  all. 

"  And  I  have  been  thinking,**  continued  the  duchess, 
"  that,  as  Sir  Basil  and  your  uncle  seem  so  warmly  attached 
to  each  other,  it  would  be  a  great  pity  to  part  them,  above 
all  just  now,  when  Sir  Basil  is  evidently  recovering  health 
and  spirits.  The  duke  likes  him  very  much,  and  I  thought 
of  asking  him  to  go  to  Dene  with  us.  Lie  will  find  plenty 
shooting  and  fishing  there.  We  are  sure  to  have  some 
pleasant  shooting-parties  in  September." 

Was  it  a  dazzling  burst  of  sunlight  that  brightened 
Leah's  fair  face  and  laughed  in  her  expressive  eyes  t  She 
turned  with  a  quick,  graceful  gesture,  and  stooping,  kissed 
the  white  jeweled  hands  of  the  kindly  woman  who  had  read 
so  well  her  heart's  desire.  She  spoke  no  word,  and  the 
duchess  did  not  notice  her  emotion. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  it,  Leah  ? "  she  asked,  when 
she  perceived  that  the  sudden  thrill  of  pleasure  had  passed, 

"  I  think,"  she  replied,  slowly,  "  that  he  will  be  very 
pleased." 

*'  Do  you  ? "  said  the  duchess,  trying  to  speak  care- 
lessly, while  her  heart  ached  for  the  girl,.  *'  Then  I  will 
ask  him  to-day." 

She  saw  that  the  kindest  thing  she  could  do  was  to  leave 
Leah  alone.  The  girl  trembled,  and  the  hands  that  sought 
the  crimson  roses  shook. 

"  I  have  some  letters  to  write,  Leah,"  said  the  duchess. 
**  I  think  I  v/ill  finish  them  before  luncheon." 

Leah  did  not  even  hear  her.  The  duchess  raised  hei 
hands  and  eye^i  ao  biie  went  away. 


,32  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

"  I  thought  I  was  in  love  when  I  was  a  girl,"  she  said ; 
"  but  that  was  child's  play  to  this.  I  have  always  said  a 
great  love  is  a  terrible  thing,  and  so  it  is." 

She  would  have  been  more  sure  of  it  still  had  she  seen 
Leah  when  she  knew  herself  to  be  alone.  She  bowed  her 
head,  while  tears  fell  like  raindrops  upon  the  crimson 
roses  ;  and  from  the  girl's  trembling  lips  came  the  mur- 
mured words  of  a  prayer.  She  thanked  Heaven.  Heaven 
had  sent  Sir  Basil ;  and  now  he  was  not  to  be  taken  out 
of  her  life  suddenly,  but  they  were  to  be  together  the  whole 
of  the  happy  bright  autumn.  And,  for  the  time,  self-sacri- 
ficing Hettie,  of  whom  Leah  had  heard  nothing  since 
they  parted,  was  forgotten  in  this  new  happiness. 


CHAPTER  XXL 

The  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Rosedene,  with  their  visitors, 
were  at  Dene  Abbey,  within  sight  and  sound  of  the  ever- 
murmuring  sea.  Miss  Hatton  had  the  whole  day  to  her- 
self ;  she  had  no  great  household  to  manage  as  at  Brent- 
wood, she  had  no  care  about  the  entertainment  of  visitors ; 
the  long,  bright  hours  were  hers,  to  spend  as  she  would. 

Lady  Maude  Trevar  had  gladly  accepted  the  duchess' 
invitation ;  but  pretty  May  Luson  had  promised  to  pay  a 
visit  elsewhere,  and  could  not  break  her  engagement.  The 
military  element  had  dispersed.  Sir  Basil  Carlton  had 
been  delighted  with  her  grace's  proposal  to  join  the  party 
at  the  Abbey.  He  liked  the  duchess ;  her  kindly  gracious 
manner  pleased  him  ;  he  was  touched  by  her  great  kind- 
ness to  himself,  although  he  did  not  know  the  cause.  He 
did  not  go  with  the  party  froni  Brentwood,  but  he  followed 
tiiem  in  a  few  days.     It  was  a  wonderful  change  from  the 


THE  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  133 

green,  sweet  woodlands  of  Warwickshire,  to  the  country 
bordering  on  a  sunny  southern  sea. 

Dene  Abbey  was  a  very  old  house,  one  that  hundreds 
of  years  before  had  belonged  to  an  ancient  order  of  friars. 
Bluff  King  Harry  took  possession  of  it,  and  gave  it  to 
one  of  his  favorite  courtiers.  In  course  of  time  it  came 
into  the  hands  of  the  Rosedene  family,  who  valued  highly 
the  grand  old  mansion  and  magnificent  estate.  The  duch- 
ess always  insisted  upon  spending  a  few  months  there  every 
year.  Modern  rooms  and  modern  luxuries  had  been  added 
to  the  old  mansion,  but  it  still  retained  enough  of  its  an- 
tiquity to  be  one  of  the  show  places  of  England. 

From  the  windows,  from  the  terraces,  from  the  grai*sy 
knolls  in  the  park^from  every  part,  the  sea  was  visible. 

Dene  lay  in  Sussex,  near  the  little  town  of  Southwood, 
which  was  a  favorite  watering-place.  When  calm,  the  water 
of  the  Channel  lay  like  a  fair  mirror  in  the  distance.  When 
it  was  rough,  the  foam  and  the  dashing  spray  seemed  al- 
most to  envelop  the  Abbey. 

There  had  been  nothing  wanting  in  the  poetry  of  Leah's 
love-story ;  but  if  anything  could  deepen  the  romance  of 
it,  it  was  certainly  the  presence  of  the  beautifjil,  restless, 
heaving  sea. 

The  duchess  had  but  one  notion  of  pleasing  her  guests 
at  Dene,  and  it  was  to  give  them  perfect  liberty.  Some 
liked  the  woods,  some  the  yellow  sands,  some  the  ever- 
changing  sea.  They  went  where  they  liked  and  did  as 
they  liked,  which  was  the  great  charm  of  the  place. 

So  Sir  Basil,  who  liked  the  sea,  and  Leah,  whose  pas- 
sionate soul  delighted  in  it,  were  often  on  the  beach  to- 
gether. They  enjoyed  the  firm,  yellow  sands,  the  danc- 
ing, crested  waves,  the  tall  white  cliffs  covered  with 
luxuriant  vegetation,  the  briny  odor  of  the  sea-breeze,  the 
pretty  shells  and  pebbles  on  the  beach,  the  seaweed  which 
drifted  with  the  waters.    They  spent  long  hours  togethei^ 


134  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

listening  to  the  music  of  the  waves  and  talking  of  the 
beauty  that  lay  around.  And  during  this  time,  while  the 
sea-gulls  whirled  in  the  air,  while  the  southern  wind  kissed 
the  waves,  the  heart  of  the  girl  who  loved  Sir  Basil  be- 
came so  entirely  his,  her  life  so  wholly  wrapped  in  his, 
that  death  would  have  been  easier  than  to  see  him  pass 
out  of  it. 

The  duchess  remarked  it,  and  mourned  over  it,  but  did 
not  interfere — it  was  too  late.  But  she  said  to  herself 
over  and  over  again  that  it  was  ten  thousand  pities  Leah 
had  so  much  romance  in  her  nature  ;  she  would  have  bfeen 
so  much  happier  had  she  been  more  like  ordinary  girls. 

The  evenings  at  Dene  were  delightful.  The  drawing- 
room  was  an  immense  apartment,  containing  five  large 
windows.  From  them  one  stepped  on  to  a  smooth,  green 
lawn  ;  and  from  the  lawn  a  short  path  led  through  the 
woods  to  the  cliffs  and  the  sea.  When  the  moon  shone  on 
the  white  cliffs  and  the  shifting  water,  the  effect  was  daz- 
zling. Then  the  duchess  liked  the  lamps  to  be  lowered 
and  the  windows  all  thrown  open,  when  the  wind,  laden 
with  sweet  odors  from  land  and  sea,  came  in. 

One  evening  the  moon  shone  unwontedly  bright ;  in 
the  distance  the  sea  looked  like  molten  silver — it  was  a 
night  to  fill  all  hearts  with  an  underined  sense  of  passion* 
ate  longing. 

"  Let  us  have  some  music,"  said  the  duchess,  as  she 
leaned  back  in  her  chair.     "  Leah,  let  us  hear  you  sing." 

Then  from  out  of  the  soft  shadows  appeared  Leah's 
tall  graceful  figure  enveloped  in  sweeping  folds  of  black 
lace.  She  went  quietly  to  the  piano.  The  white,  slender 
hands  moved  gently  over  the  keys  ;  the  beautiful  face  grew 
fairer  as  the  passionate  words  fell  from  her  lips.    She  sang: 

My  heart  is  like  a  singing  bird 

Whose  nest  is  in  a  watered  shoot; 
My  heart  is  like  an  apple-lree 

Whose  boughs  are  bent  with  thick-set  fruit  % 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  135 

My  heart  is  like  a  rainbow  shell 

That  paddles  in  a  halcyon  sea ; 
Idy  htsart  is  gladder  than  all  tbesf^ 

Because  my  love  is  come  to  me. 

^*  Raise  me  a  dais  of  silk  aK.d  down; 

Hang  it  with  hair  and  purple  dyes^ 
Carve  it  in  doves  and  pomegranates 

And  peacocks  with  a  hundred  eyes  ; 
Work  it  in  gold  and  silver  grasses. 

In  leaves  and  silver  fleur-de-lys. 
Because  the  birthday  of  my  life 

Is  come — my  love  is  come  to  me." 

Slie  did  not  heed  who  was  in  the  room.  The  words 
sprung  as  it  were  from  her  heart  to  her  lips.  She  was 
thinking  just  at  that  time  mor^  of  her  love  than  of  her 
lover — this  golden-winged  love  that  had  taken  her  captive 
and  stolen  her  heart. 

Sir  Basil  came  quietly  to  her  side. 

"  Those  '  are  quaint  lines,  Miss  Hatton,"  he  said. 
** Whose  are  they?  "  There  was  no  music  on  the  piano, 
and  it  struck  him  suddenly  that  both  words  and  notes  were 
impromptu.  "  I  believe,"  he  added,  impulsively,  "  that 
they  are  your  own," 

The  white  fingers  wandered  over  the  keys.  She  made 
no  answer ;  she  was  wondering  whether  he  had  guessed 
her  secret  at  last. 

"My. love  is  come  to  me" — the  words  startled  her 
when  she  came  to  think  of  their  truth. 

Sir  Basil  left  the  piano  and  went  back  to  his  chair, 
which  was  placed  outside  the  long  French  windows.  He 
thought  more  of  Leah  than  he  had  ever  thought  before. 
He  remembered  all  that  the  duchess  had  told  him  of  her 
fanciful  idea  that  she  would  be  able  to  recognize  her  ideal 
lover  the  moment  she  saw  him  ;  and  now  she  sung  that  he 
had  come.  Was  it  really  so  ?  He  looked  round  on  the 
men  sitting  apart  in  little  groups  ;  there  was  not  one  he 
considered  worthy  of  her.     He  never  thought  of  himself. 


336  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING'RIAG. 

Each  time  that  night  that  his  eyes  fell  on  her  fair  face  the 
words  came  back  to  him  :  "  My  love  is  come  to  me." 

She  was  more  shy  and  timid  with  him  after  that.  She 
avoided  him  a  little,  but  loved  him  just  as  much.  She 
would  have  gone  through  fire  and  water  for  him ;  she  would 
have  made  any  sacrifice  for  him.  The  marvel  was  that  the 
5/oung  baronet  never  dreamed  of  the  conquest  he  had 
made.  As  for  Leah,  she  had  not  yet  begun  to  doubt ;  she 
felt  certain  that  his  love  would  be  hers  in  the  fulness  of 
time. 

A  little  incident  happened  shortly  after  this  which 
changed  the  current  of  their  lives  and  hurried  on  events. 

Sir  Arthur  Hatton  was  a  stranger  to  all  fair  love-dreams 
and  sweet  fancies.  Lady  Bourgoyne  had  married  him 
without  giving  him  any  trouble ;  his  comfortable  affection 
for  her  had  never  caused  him  a  pang.  That  he  should 
understand  a  nature  or  a  love  like  Leah's  was  not  to  be 
expected  ;  but  he  was  one  day  the  unwilling  witness  of  a 
litde  scene  that  opened  his  eyes. 

In  the  library  stood  a  large  Japanese  screen,  and  Sir. 
Arthur  enjoyed  nothing  more  than  placing  this  round  one 
of  the  great  bay-windows  and  intrenching  himself  therein 
with  his  newspaper.  Every  one  knew  his  whim  and  smiled 
at  it.  People  went  into  the  library  to  search  for  books, 
read  the  newspapers,  and  write  their  letters,  without  pay- 
ing the  least  attention  to  him.  It  was  the  only  room  in 
the  house  where  he  was  free  from  the  lively  chatter  and 
laughter  of  the  girls,  or  the  gossip  of  the  older  women. 

One  morning  there  was  some  Indian  news  in  the  Times 
which  interested  him  greatly^etters  written  by  fellow- 
officers  whose  opinions  he  valued  highly.  He  wished  to 
be  undisturbed,  so  he  betook  himself  to  his  favorite  retreat. 
He  found  the  library  cool  and  empty  ;  the  sun-blinds  were 
all  drawn,  the  light  was  dim  and  pleasant.  He  placed  the 
screen  round  his  favorite  window,     "  Thank  goodness,"  he 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  13^ 

said  to  himself,  "that  I  shall  now  be  able  to  read  in 
peace  1  " 

Sir  Arthur  had  hardly  settled  himself  comfortably,  how- 
ever, before  the  duchess  came  in. 

She  looked  over  the  screen. 

"  I  shall  not  disturb  you,  general,"  she  said.  "  A  man 
deep  in  his  morning  newspaper  is  to  me  as  formidable  as 
a  lion  in  his  lair.     Indian  news,  I  believe  ?  '* 

"And  very  bad  news,"  answered  Sir  Arthur,  briefly. 

The  duchess  read  for  about  half  an  hour,  and  then 
went  away. 

Presently  Lady  Maude  Trevar  entered,  and,  sitting 
down,  wrote  letter  after  letter  without  a  single  thought  as 
to  whether  any  one  was  in  the  room.  She  was  not  in  the 
least  surprised  when  the  general,  in  turning  his  newspaper, 
betrayed  his  presence.  Then  came  his  Grace  of  Rose- 
dene. 

*'  I  do  not  like  the  Indian  news  this  morning,"  he  said. 
"  If  Government  is  not  more  on  the  alert,  we  shall  have 
another  terrible  rising,  I  fear." 

**  Most  likely,"  answered  Sir  Arthur,  briefly  again. 

The  duke  went  on  in  his  usual  amiable  manner,  making 
very  mild  and  pointless  comments,  which  elicited  but 
monosyllabic  replies. 

"  I  see  you  are  busy,"  said  his  grace.  "  We  will  dis- 
cuss the  question  more  fully  after  dinner." 

Sir  Arthur  groaned  as  his  friend  went  out.  "Now 
surely  I  shall  remain  uninterrupted,"  he  thought. 

Fate  was  against  him  this  morning ;  for  the  fourth  time 
the  door  opened.  It  was  Leah  who  now  appeared.  She 
was  in  her  favorite  colors  of  amber  and  white,  with  creamy 
roses  at  her  throat.  She  did  not  observe  the  screen,  much 
less  wonder  if  any  one  were  behind  it.  She  knew  it  was 
a  favorite  recess  of  her  uncle's,  but  she  was  not  thinking 
of  him,     He  recognized  the  gentle  footstep,  but  her  pres 


138  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

ence  did  not  disturb  him — he  loved  her  too  well,  and  he 
was  accustomed  to  it ;  he  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  tell 
her  he  was  there. 

For  ten  minutes  there  was  almost  complete  silence. 
He  could  hear  the  sound  of  Leah's  pen.  She  was  writing 
rapidly.  Then  suddenly  the  door  opened,  and  Sir  Arthur's 
smothered  groan  was  lost  in  the  voice  of  the  speaker. 

*'  Shall  I  disturb  you  Miss  Hatton  ?  "  It  was  Sir  Basil 
who  put  the  question.  **  I  am  in  trouble,  from  which  a 
lady  alone  can  release  me.'* 

*'  I  am  glad  you  sought  me,"  she  said.  And  for  the 
first  time  the  general  was  struck  with  something  peculiar 
in  the  tone  of  her  voice  as  she  answered  him.  "  What  can 
I  do  for  you  ?  "  she  asked. 

"There  is  an  old  proverb  which  says  that  *  a  stitch  in 
time  saves  nine.*  Will  you  make  that  first  stitch  now,  and 
save  the  nine  hereafter,  Miss  Hatton  ?  '* 

"  Of  course  I  will,"  she  replied.  "  Where  is  the  stitch 
needed  ?  '* 

"  In  this  driving-glove,"  he  replied ;  "  the  button  is 
nearly  off.     Would  you  be  so  kind  as  to  fasten  it .''  * 

Leah  laughed  blithely. 

*'  Certainly,"  she  said,  as  she  took  the  thick  yellow 
driving-glove  that  he  held  out  to  her.  "  Will  you  excuse 
me  one  minute  while  I  find  needle  and  thread?"  she 
added. 

She  went  away,  leaving  Sir  Basil  looking  over  an  open 
volume  that  lay  upon  the  table. 

"  I  hope,"  thought  the  general  to  himself,  "  that  this 
good  fellow  will  not  find  me  out  and  begin  to  air  his  ideas 
on  Indian  politics  to  me." 

But  Sir  Basil  was  in  happy  ignorance  of  the  general's 
proximity.  He  read  a  few  lines  in  the  open  volume, 
hummed  a  favorite  air  to  himself,  and  then  Leah  returned- 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  139 

<*  I  am  sorry  to  have  kept  you  waiting,"  she  said.  "  I 
will  release  you  now  in  a  few  minutes.'* 

The  slender  fingers  soon  accomplished  their  task.  She 
held  out  the  glove  to  him,  and  as  she  did  so,  her  eyes  fell 
on  the  spray  of  stephanotis  that  he  wore  in  his  coat. 

"  Your  flower  is  faded,"  she  said  ;  "  Let  me  give  you 
another.  I  have  a  superstition  that  it  is  unlucky  to  wear 
faded  flowers." 

"  By  all  means  replace  it,  if  you  will  be  good  enough," 
he  responded. 

She  took  the  spray  of  stephanotis  from  him,  and  laid  it 
upon  the  table.  From  one  of  the  vases  she  chose  a  beau- 
tiful moss-rosebud,  fresh  as  the  dawn,  and  fastened  it  in 
his  coat  for  him. 

He  thanked  her  briefly,  stood  talking  to  her  for  some 
few  minutes,  and  then  went  away. 

Sir  Arthur,  looking  over  the  screen,  was  about  to  thank 
Heaven  that  he  was  gone ;  but  no  word  came  from  his 
lips — ^he  was  stricken  dumb. 

What  was  she  doing — his  proud,  beautiful  niece — whose 
love  no  man  had  been  able  to  win,  whose  smiles  had  been 
sought  as  a  priceless  boon  ?  She  had  never  seemed  to 
care  for  love  or  admiration,  for  lovers  or  marriage.  She 
had  moved  through  the  brilliant  world  like  an  ice-maiden. 
What  was  she  doing  ? 

She  had  taken  the  withered  flower  in  her  hands,  and 
was  kneeling  down  by  the  table  and  covering  the  faded 
spray  with  kisses  and  tears. 

"  Oh,  my  love,"  she  sighed,  "  my  love,  if  you  only 
loved  me  !  But  I  am  less  to  you  than  the  withered  flower 
you  have  thrown  away." 

The  general  would  have  spoken  then  and  have  let  Leah 
know  that  he  had  overheard  her,  but  surprise  and  wonder 
kept  him  silent.  He  saw  her  kiss  the  open  volume  wher© 
Sir  Basil's  hand  had  rested. 


140  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

"  I  shall  die,"  she  sobbed,  "  just  as  this  flower  hag 
died,  and  just  as  far  from  his  heart !  Oh,  cruel  world  I  I 
have  asked  but  for  one  thing  and  it  has  been  denied  me. 
T  wish  I  had  never  been  born.  Oh,  my  love,  why  can  you 
not  love  me  ?  I  am  fair  enough  for  others,  why  not  fo< 
you  ?  I  can  win  other  hearts,  why  not  yours  ?  I  would 
give  my  life  for  your  love  !  '* 

The  low  smothered  sound  of  her  bitter  sobbing  mingled 
with  the  song  of  the  birds  and  the  whisper  of  the  wind ;  it 
smote  the  heart  of  the  old  soldier  with  unutterable  pain. 
He  had  rescued  her  from  what  he  thought  a  shameful  life, 
adopted  her,  and  given  her  his  love  and  protection ;  he 
had  made  her  heiress  of  his  vast  fortune  ;  and  this  was  all 
that  had  come  of  it,  this  was  the  end  of  all  his  hopes  for 
her.  She  was  wearing  her  heart  and  her  life  away  for  a 
love  that  could  never  be  hers,  or  at  least  that  was  not  hers. 
From  the  sight  of  the  kneeling  figure,  the  clasped  hands, 
the  proud  head  so  despairingly  bent,  the  general  turned 
with  tears  in  his  eyes. 

"  If  I  could  but  die,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  and  be  at 
rest ;  if  I  could  but  sleep  and  never  wake  ;  if  I  could  but 
hide  my  love,  and  sorrow  and  pain !  " 

He  was  tempted  to  go  to  her,  to  take  her  in  his  arms 
and  try  to  comfort  her,  but  a  sense  of  delicacy  forbade 
him.  She  was  so  proud  and  sensitive,  what  would  she 
think  or  feel  if  she  knew  that  he  had  possession  of  her 
secret  t  Yet  the  bitter  long-drawn  sobs  fell  on  his  ear  and 
tortured  him.  He  could  not  help  her,  He  would  not  for 
the  world  let  her  know  that  he  had  overheard  her ;  so  he 
laid  down  his  newspaper  and  passed  noiselessly  out  through 
the  open  window  on  to  the  lawn,  and  not  until  he  had 
walked  some  little  distance  did  he  feel  at  ease. 

"  I  would  not  have  her  guess  that  I  have  been  a  witness 
of  that  scene  for  treble  my  fortune,  poor  child  !  "  he  mur 
mured.  ^   ~~ 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING'RmG,  i^j 

This  was  her  fate — brilliant,  beautiful,  worshipped  and 
wretched.  This  was  the  love  he  had  never  appreciated, 
never  even  understood.  How  strong,  and  deep  and  ter- 
rible it  must  be  thus  to  torment  one  on  whom  the  brightest 
gifts  of  earth  had  been  lavished.  He  forgot  the  Indian 
news — all  that  had  interested  and  puzzled  him.  So  this 
was  Leah's  secret — she  loved  Sir  Basil,  and  he  did  not 
love  her ! 

*'  Poor  child,  poor  child  ! "  muttered  the  general. 
*'  How  distressed  she  was  !  No  wonder  she  loves  him  ;  he 
is  the  finest  young  fellow  I  have  ever  met.  Any  woman 
might  love  him.  The  wonder  is  why  he  does  not  love  her. 
Perhaps,"  thought  the  simple  old  soldier,  "  he  is  like  me. 
I  did  not  understand  such  things  until  they  were  pointed 
out  to  me.  I  should  never  have  proposed  to  dear  Lady 
Bourgoyne  if  Major  Wrattle  had  not  told  me  that  she  loved 
the  very  ground  I  stood  upon.  After  that  it  was  plain 
sailing.  It  may  be  the  same  with  Sir  Basil.  Something 
must  be  done.  It  is  a  sad  thing  when  girls  lose  their 
mothers  ;  it  is  only  women  who  understand  each  other.  It 
Doris  were  here,  she  would  know  what  to  do." 

His  heart  was  heavy.  He  had  meant  this  girl's  lot  to 
be  so  fair,  and  she  was  so  unhappy.  He  grew  nervous  at 
the  thought  of  meeting  her  again  ;  but  to  his  surprise, 
when  he  saw  her  at  the  luncheon  table,  there  were  no 
traces  of  sorrow  on  her  beautiful  face.  She  looked  colder 
and  prouder  than  usual,  but  there  was  no  sign  of  love- 
sickness  about  her. 

"  Who  can  understand  women  ?  "  said  Sir  Arthur,  ap- 
pealing to  some  invisible  power,  They  were  beyond  him 
altogether. 


14> 


A  BROKEIf  WEDDING-RING^ 


CHAPTER  XXTI. 

The  general  was  greatly  perplexed  and  quite  at  a  loss 
wliat  to  do.  At  first  he  thought  he  would  consult  the 
duchess,  who  appeared  to  him  to  be  a  compendium  of  all 
worldly  knowledge,  but  he  soon  dismissed  that  idea.  It 
would  be  a  betrayal  of  a  secret  that  he  had  discovered 
himself  only  by  chance.  During  the  next  few  days  he 
watched  Leah  covertly,  and  now  that  he  had  the  key,  he 
understood  the  enigma  of  her  conduct  better.  He  saw 
how  completely  engrossed  she  was  in  her  love — that  she 
seemed  to  have  no  thought,  no  interest,  no  care  outside  it. 
It  would  be  in  every  respect  a  most  eligible  match,  thought 
the  general.  The  two  estates  would  become  one,  and  Sir 
Basil  would  make  a  name  for  himself.  They  were  both 
young,  handsome,  gifted.  What  a  pity  that  Sir  Basil  did 
not  fall  in  love  with  the  girl  who  was  so  devoted  to  him ! 

Leah  came  down  one  morning  looking  pale  and  tired ; 
she  had  not  slept  during  the  night,  and  the  dark  eyes  were 
languid  and  shaded.  Sir  Arthur  grew  alarmed  and  anxious 
about  her.  He  wanted  to  take  her  out  for  a  drive,  but 
she  declined  going.  She  admitted  that  she  was  not  well. 
He  proposed  that  he  should  take  her  into  the  woods,  or  for 
a  walk  down  to  the  sea ;  but  the  sun  was  hot — she  would 
not  venture.    The  general  was  greatly  disturbed. 

The  duchess  found  him  wandering  uneasily  up  and 
down  the  terrace. 

**  You  are  looking  very  grave  this  morning.  Sir  Arthur," 
she  said.  "  May  I  venture  to  ask  what  occupies  your 
thoughts  ? " 

"  I  am  thinking  about  subjects  that  I  do  D'lt  5»  the 
least  understand,"  he  answered.     "  It  seems  to  me  m•d^ 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  143 

even  after  so  many  years*  experience,  I  know  but  little  of 
Me.  Tell  me,  duchess — ^you  understand  matters— do  girls 
ever  really  suffer  and  die  from  love  ? " 

The  duchess  started.  Had  he,  too,  found  out  the 
secret  that  she  iiad  discovered  ? 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  "  I  think  they  do  sometimes  die 
of  love.  Not  often ;  there  are  exceptional  cases,  as  there 
are  exceptional  natures." 

His  face  cleared  a  little. 

"  It  is  not  the  kind  of  thing  you  would  expect  from  a 
sensible  girl  ? "  he  interrogated. 

"  No,"  replied  the  duchess ;  "  it  is  the  last  thing  that 
would  happen  to  a  sensible  girl." 

He  gave  a  great  sigh  of  relief. 

"  And  yet  you  think  there  are  girls  who  would  really 
die  if  they  were  what  is  called  *  crossed  in  love  ?  ' " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  duchess,  *'  I  do  think  so.  If  a  girl  is 
full  of  romance  and  poetry,  and  throws  her  heart  and  soul 
into  her  love,  the  consequences  are  likely  to  be  serious  if 
matters  do  not  progress  smoothly." 

There  was  little  comfort  to  be  gained  from  this— for 
Leah,  he  knew,  was  visionary  and  romantic. 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  he  said  gently,  "  that  such  love 
causes  more  pain  than  pleasure." 

"  I  think  it  does,"  agreed  the  duchess. 

Then  she  went  away.  She  would  say  no  more  ;  it  did 
not  seem  to  her  either  fair  or  honorable  that  they  should 
discuss  the  secret  which  both  had  discovered. 

The  general  became  more  and  more  anxious.  He  was 
thinking  always  of  his  niece  ;  he  watched  her  face  intently. 
If  it  was  unclouded,  if  her  eyes  were  bright  and  the  red 
lips  smiling,  he  was  happy ;  but  if  she  looked  sad  he  was 
miserable.  He  had  not  known  until  now  how  dearly  he 
loved  her.  He  had  thought  money  and  position  all-power* 
iul  j  but  they  were  not  so.    All  his  wealth  could  not  buy 


,44  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

foT  his  niece  that  which  she  desired — could  not  give  hef 
love  and  happiness.  It  was  late  in  life  for  him  to  make 
this  unpleasant  discovery.  What  could  he  do  for  her  ? 
Sir  Basil  liked  her ;  he  was  quite  sure  of  that.  He  seemed 
happy  always  when  he  was  with  her ;  he  sought  her  society 
frequently — why  should  he  not  love  her  ? 

It  struck  him  suddenly  one  morning  that,  if  Sir  Basil 
only  knew  how  matters  stood,  he  might,  in  all  probability 
would,  ask  Leah  to  marry  him. 

*'  I  spoke  to  Lady  Bourgoyne  at  once,"  he  said  to  him- 
self, *'  when  the  major  told  me  that  she  would  never  be  a 
happy  woman  unless  I  married  her.  The  chances  are 
that  in  the  same  circumstances  Sir  Basil  would  follow  my 
example." 

He  determined  that,  as  he  was  Leah's  guardian,  uncle, 
and  adopted  father,  he  was  the  right  person  to  give  this 
delicate  hint. 

A  favorable  opportunity  occurred  a  few  days  afterward. 
He  overtook  Sir  Basil,  who  was  strolling  on  the  beach 
alone,  smoking  a  cigar.  The  general  reddened  all  over 
his  honest  bronzed  face  when  he  thought  of  the  great  in- 
terest at  stake,  and  how  much  depended  on  the  result  of  the 
conversation. 

They  first  discussed  the  weather  and  matters  of  general 
interest.  Then  Sir  Arthur  began  cautiously  to  feel  his 
way.  He  always  thought  afterward  that  this  conversation 
had  been  a  masterpiece  of  diplomacy.  He  commenced  to 
talk  about  Glen  and  its  surroundings. 

"  You  will  want  a  mistress  for  that  beautiful  home  of 
yours  some  day.  Sir  Basil,"  he  said. 

The  young  baronet  laughed, 

*'  I  suppose  so,"  he  said. 

*'  Have  you  begun  to  think  of  looking  out,  or  settling 
down,  or  whatever  it  is  called  !  "  asked  the  general. 

**  No  }  I  have  not  had  time.    I   am  in  no  hurry  ;  I 


A  BROJCEN  WEDDING-RING,  145 

should  like  to  make  some  position  for  myself  before  I 
chink  of  marriage,"  said  the  young  baronet. 

"  Quite  right,"  cried  the  general,  hastily.  He  must  not 
show  his  hand  too  soon.  "  Are  you  ambitious  !  "  he  ask- 
ed, suddenly. 

"  Yes,"  was  the  frank  reply.  "  For  my  part,  I  do  not 
believe  in  hereditary  position  ;  I  believe  that  every  man 
should  carve  out  a  name  and  fame  for  himself.  I,  for  in- 
stance, would  far  rather  be  known  as  Basil  Carlton,  states- 
man, or  skilful  soldier,  or  able  writer,  than  merely  as  Sir 
Basil  Carlton,  of  Glen." 

'*  I  hope  to  Heaven,'*  said  the  general,  "  that  you  are 
not  a  radical  I  " — and  his  thoughts  flew  back  to  Martin 
Ray. 

"  No,  I  am  not  a  radical  ;  but  I  think  there  are  many 
fine  and  noble  men  in  England  to  be  found  among  the 
radicals." 

"  That  may  be,"  acknowledged  Sir  Arthur.  "  Politics," 
he  continued,  "  are  a  fair  game,  at  which  every  man  can 
play.  I  respect  the  convictions  of  every  honest  man  ;  but 
I  loathe  and  detest  men  who  trade  upon  others,  make 
tools  of  them,  and  foster  rebellion  and  murder." 

*'  That  is  not  radicalism,"  said  Sir  Basil,  calmly. 

But  it  was  not  politics  that  the  general  wished  to  discuss. 

**  I  suppose  you  would  like  to  go  into  parliament,  Sir 
Basil,"  he  remarked. 

"  I  have  often  thought  of  it,"  he  said  ;  "  and  I  shall 
most  certainly  try  for  it.  That  is  my  ideal  life — to  serve 
my  country  in  some  way  during  part  of  the  year,  and  to 
live  on  my  estate  during  the  remainder.  One  of  my 
greatest  ambitions  is  to  have  a  model  estate." 

**  A  very  noble  ambition,  too,"  remarked  the  general. 
"  I  approve  of  that.  And  you  do  not  think  of  marrying 
yet  ?  But  you  will  want  a  wife  to  do  the  honors  for  you,  M 
you  carry  out  your  plans." 


146  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RIRG. 

"  I  had  better  make  my  mark  first,"  he  said. 

The  general  looked  at  him  keenly. 

**  You  are  not  one  of  those  who  despise  marriage,  or 
think  it  of  little  consequence  ?  "  he  queried. 

"  No — far  from  it.  I  think  it  is  the  one  step  in  life 
that  makes  or  mars  a  man  ;  his  happiness  or  misery  most 
certainly  depends  upon  it ;  therefore,  I  hope  to  look  before 
I  leap." 

"  Quite  right,"  said  the  general  ;  "  you  could  not  do 
better.  Men  have  such  different  tastes.  Now,  what  is 
your  idea  of  a  wife  ?  " 

Sir  Basil  laughed. 

"  I  do  not  know  that  I  have  formed  one  yet." 

The  general  looked  relieved.  If  his  heart  was  yet 
untouched,  why  could  he  not  learn  to  love  Leah  ? 

"  I  should  like  to  know,"  he  said,  thoughtfully,  "  what 
you  would  expect  in  a  wife.  What  are  the  qualifications 
you  deem  necessary  in  a  woman  who  would  aspire  to  that 
position  ? " 

"  I  have  never  thought  about  it ;  I  suppose  my  ideas 
are  not  different  from  other  people's,"  answered  Sir  Basil, 
laughing. 

"  Would  you  marry  for  beauty,  money,  or  position  ? " 

*'  No  ;  I  should  marry  for  love,"  said  Sir  Basil.  "  I 
should  never  marry  for  beauty,  though  I  should  like  the 
woman  I  love  to  have  a  fair  face  of  her  own.  I  do  not 
care  for  money — I  have  quite  enough  ;  but  I  shall  not  be 
ill-pleased  if  my  wife  has  some  fortune." 

*'  His  ideas  are  sensible,"  thought  the  general  to  himself. 
**  I  am  sure  that,  if  I  had  thought  of  marriage  at  all,  it 
would  have  been  much  in  the  same  way."  Aloud  he  said, 
*  I  should  like  to  ask  you  one  more  questipn,  and  I  beg 
that  you  will  not  think  me  curious." 

**  I  know  your  true  friendship  for  me,"  said  Sir  Basil, 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  147 

"  and  I  feel  that  nothing  you  might  ask  me  would  be 
prompted  by  idle  curiosity." 

"  I  should  like  to  know,"  pursued  the  general,  "  if  you 
have  passed  through  the  fever  called  love  ?  " 

"  No,  I  have  not,"  said  Sir  Basil,  "  I  am  heart-whole 
and  fancy-free.     I  may  add  that  I  thank  Heaven  for  it." 

"  So  do  I,"  thought  the  general.  He  was  silent  for 
some  minutes,  not  quite  seeing  his  way  to  the  next  question. 

"  If  the  story  of  the  marriages  of  one  generation  could 
be  written,  it  would  be  a  wonderful  volume,"  said  Sir 
Arthur,  musingly.  "  Some  men  are  led  into  marriage.  I 
was  ;  and  my  marriage  proved  a  happy  one.  I  had  never 
given  a  thought  to  it  until  some  one  told  me  that  a  certain 
lady  favored  me  very  much.  I  found  it  was  true,  and  we 
were  very  happy." 

Sir  P-^sil  was  surprised  to  see  that  the  general  looked 
flushed  and  perplexed  He  was  a  little  amused,  too,  at 
his  choice  of  such  a  subject  for  discussion.  He  wondered 
if  Sir  Arthur  had  any  thoughts  of  marrying  again. 

"  There  are  some  very  knotty  points  about  this  same 
love-making,"  continued  the  general.  "  I  do  not  think, 
taking  it  as  it  is  conducted  now,  that  the  ladies  have  a  fair 
chance." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  asked  Sir  Basil. 

"  The  advantages  are  mainly  on  the  side  of  the  man," 
said  the  general.  "  If  a  man  sees  a  girl  and  likes  her,  he 
has  but  to  tell  her  so  ;  she  can  say  'Yes,  or  *  No,'  as  she 
pleases." 

"  Certainly,"  chimed  in  Sir  Basil. 

"  Reverse  the  question.  If  a  young  girl  sees  a  man 
and  likes  him  ever  so  much,  she  cannot  say  so." 

"  It  is  certainly  not  the  custom  of  English  girls  !  " 
laughed  Sir  Basil. 

*'  Do  you  think  it  fair  to  the  weaker  sex  that  they 
should  be  obliged  to  conceal  their  sentiments  ?  " 


,48  -*  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

"  I  must  confess  I  should  not  like  to  see  the  custom 
reversed,"  replied  the  baronet.  "  Besides,  there  is  a  view 
of  the  matter  which  does  not  seem  to  have  struck  you,  Sir 
Arthur.  Women  are  more  clever  than  men  ;  they  have  a 
thousand  quick  instincts  that  we  do  not  possess  ;  and  I 
fancy  that,  if  any  girl  gave  her  heart  unsolicited,  there  are 
many  ways  in  which,  without  losing  either  her  dignity  or 
her  modesty,  she  could  let  it  be  known." 

The  general  looked  hopeless,  helpless.  This  view  of 
the  subject  had  not  occurred  to  him. 

"  I  mean,"  continued  Sir  Basil,  "  that,  without  saying 
one  word,  by  her  face  and  manner  any  woman  could  make 
a  man  understand  that  she  liked  him." 

"  If  that  be  the  case,"  thought  the  general  to  himself, 
*'  why  has  not  Leah  done  so.?  " 

Then  he  remembered  that  she  was  too  proud  and  cold ; 
she  would  die  rather  than  stoop  to  that.  But  he  must  save 
her.  Even  the  duchess  admitted  that  at  times  an  unhappy 
love  proved  fatal. 

**  I  should  like  to  know  your  opinion.  Sir  Basil,"  he  said. 
"  Should  you  think  less  of  a  girl  if  she  had  a  great  affec- 
tion for  a  man  who  had  shown  no  signs  of  any  for  her  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not,"  he  replied. 

"  I  will  put  a  case  to  you,"  said  the  general,  warming 
now  to  his  work.  "  Suppose  that  a  lady,  young  and 
beautiful,  all  that  is  most  gracious  and  graceful,  meets  a 
man  and  likes  him  so  well  that  her  liking  grows  into  love 
for  him,  and  that  love  takes  such  complete  possession  of 
her  that  not  only  her  happiness  but  her  life  is  endangered ; 
would  you  think  it  prudent  or  discreet  if  some  of  her 
friends,  some  one  who  loved  her,  told  him  of  it  ?  " 

"  I  should  think  it  the  kindest  thing  to  do,"  said  Sir 
Basil,  carelessly. 

"  You  would  approve  of  such  a  line  of  conduct  ? "  said 
r>ir  Arthur. 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 


149 


**  If  the  man  so  loved  were  quite  free,  I  could  see  no 
objection  to  it,"  said  Sir  Basil. 

"  Thank  Heaven  I  hear  you  say  so  !'*  cried  the  general. 

**  Why,  what  has  it  to  do  with  me  ?  '*  asked  Sir  Basil. 

**  I — I  know  some  one,"  stammered  the  general — "  some 
one  who  cares  for  you  in  that  way,  whose  life  is  wrapped 
up,  so  to  speak,  in  yours." 

"  In  mine  ! "  cried  Sir  Basil.  "You  must  be  mistaken, 
general." 

"  I  am  not,  indeed.  Think  of  all  the  people  you  know, 
and  see  if  you  cannot  find  some  clue." 

"I  am  sure  I  cannot,"  said  Sir  Basil,  quickly.  **  I 
have  not  mixed  much  in  ladies'  society,  and  of  those  I  know 
I  cannot  imagine  one  caring  much  for  me." 

"  Yet  there  is  one,"  declared  the  general,  slowly. 
•*  What  the  noonday  sun  is  to  the  flowers,  you  are  to  her. 
She  loves  you  as  I  believe  very  few  women  have  the  power 
of  loving." 

"  How  do  you  know  ? "  cried  Sir  Basil,  in  astonishment. 

"  I  found  it  out  by  accident.  I  would  have  given  a 
great  deal  not  to  have  known  it.  I  have  never  been  happy 
since." 

Sir  Basil  grew  pale  and  agitated. 

"  How  strange  that  you  should  know  that !  Are  you 
quite  sure  ?     Is  there  no  mistake  ?  " 

"  None.  I  could  almost  say  I  wish  there  were.  I 
assure  you  that  I  have  been  most  unnappy  ever  since  I 
made  the  discovery  ;  I  have  not  known  what  to  do.  I  hon- 
estly believe  .that  in  time  the  girl  will  die  if  her  love  remains 
unrequited.  It  seemed  to  me  that  in  keeping  her  secret  I 
was  almost  helping  to  kill  her  ;  in  telling  it  Heaven  only 
knows  what  other  harm  I  may  do  !  If  I  did  not  believe  it 
to  be  a  case  of  life  and  death,  I  would  not  stir  in  the  mat- 
ter, Even  now,  far  as  I  have  gone,  unless  you  wish  it,  I 
will  not  mention  the  name." 


,£0  ^  BROICEN  WEDDING-RING. 

**  I  do  not  know  what  to  say,"  declared  Sir  Basil,  deeply 
agitated.  That  any  one  loved  him  so  deeply  touched 
him. 

"  Think  over  it,*'  continued  the  general.  "  You  are 
heart-whole  and  fancy-free ;  why  not  make  this  girl  happy  ? 
If  you  loved  any  one  else,  it  would  be  a  different  matter  ; 
but  you  do  not." 

"  No,  I  do  not,"  said  Sir  Basil,  slowly. 

And  then  for  some  minutes  there  was  silence  between 
them.  It  was  the  expression  on  the  general's  face  that 
made  Sir  Basil  speak  at  last. 

*'  Tell  me  who  it  is,"  he  said,  abruptly ;  "  I  should 
prefer  to  know." 

"  Heaven  grant  that  I  am  doing  right  !  "  said  the 
general.  "  I  would  give  my  life  for  her,  because  I  love 
her  so  ;  but,  if  I  do  her  any  injury  while  seeking  only  to 
do  her  good,  I  shall  never  forgive  myself." 

"  Tell  me,"  said  Sir  Basil.     "  I— I  dare  not  guess." 

"  Yes,  I  will  tell  you,"  replied  the  elder  man,  solemnly. 
**  Heaven  grant  that  I  am  acting  wisely !  It  is  my  niece 
and  adopted  daughter  who  loves  you." 

"  Your  niece  ?  Miss  Hatton  i  "  cried  Sir  Basil.  "  You 
cannot  surely  mean  it.  Why,  the  duchess  told  me  that 
she  had  had  more  offers  of  marriage  than  any  woman  in 
England  I  " 

"  So  she  has,"  said  the  general. 

"  And  you  say  this  proud,  beautiful  girl  loves  me  ? 
It  seems  incredible  !  " 

"  She  loves  you  with  all  her  heart,"  replied  the  general, 
"  and  you  are  fancy-free.  Let  me  mention  this- -she  is 
true,  gifted,  generous ;  she  has  some  of  the  noblest  qualities 
of  a  woman  ;  she  will  be  one  of  the  wealthiest  heiresses  in 
England.  Think  over  it,  Sir  Basil.  She  would  be  so  happy, 
poor  child,  while  I — I  cannot  tell  you  what  it  would  do  foX 
me — I  love  her  so  dearly,  and  she  is  so  unhappy  " 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  151 

•*  Are  you  quite  sure  that  there  is  no  mistake  ? "  asked 
Sir  Basil.  "  Your  niece  could  aspire  to  any  position- 
socially  speaking,  I  should  be  no  match  for  her." 

"  There  is  only  this  matter  for  consideration,"  said  the 
general — "  she  loves  you.  Ah,  if  you  had  seen  her  tears  !  ^ 

"  Tears !  "  repealed  the  baronet,  in  great  distress 
"  You  do  not  surely  mean  that  she  has  shed  tears  on  my  ac 
count  ?  You  make  me  feel  as  though  I  had  been  in  some 
measure  to  blame." 

"  I  should  like  to  add  this,"  said  Sir  Arthur — "  I  should 
like  you  to  remember  this  one  thing  always — what  my 
heart  has  dictated  I  have  done  for  my  niece  ;  I  have  told 
you  the  story,  and  I  leave  it  with  you  to  act  upon  it  as 
you  think  best.  We  will  never  resume  the  subject ;  let  it  be 
buried  between  us  for  ever.  I  have  spoken  for  her  sake 
against  my  own  will." 

Silently  they  grasped  each  other's  hands,  and  parted. 

"  Heaven  grant  that  I  have  done  the  right  thing  !  '* 
said  the  general  to  himself.  "  I  believe  men  make  a 
dreadful  muddle  of  everything  of  the  kind  ;  but  I  hope  for 
the  best." 

Sir  Basirs  thoughts  were  far  more  tumultuous.  He 
admired  Leah  exceedingly  ;  but  he  had  never  dreamed 
of  marrying  her.  He  had  felt  no  tendency  whatever  to 
fall  in  love  with  her.  She  had  always  seemed  to  him  be- 
yond his  reach.  He  remembered  all  that  the  duchess  had 
told  him  of  the  offers  of  marriage  she  had  received ;  and 
this  beautiful  girl,  who  might  have  been  Countess  of  Bar- 
berry, loved  him  secretly  ! 

It  was  some  time  before  he  could  collect  his  thoughts, 
and  then  a  thousand  memories  filled  his  mind — of  looks 
and  words,  the  true  meaning  of  which  he  had  not  under- 
stood until  now.  How  blind  he  had  been  !  He  had  said 
that  a  man  would  understand  even  the  faintest  signs  of  a 
woman's  regard ;  but  had  be  understood  ' 


S^2  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

The  beautiful,  proud  face  rose  so  clearly  before  him, 
He  had  not  thought  much  of  marriage  ;  but  it  appeared 
marvellous  that  he  had  but  to  speak  one  word  and  she 
would  be  his.  He  was  not  in  love  with  her,  but  his  heart 
beat  when  he  thought  of  her.  He  was  one  of  the  least 
mercenary  and  most  generous  of  men  ;  he  would  have 
t  scorned  the  idea  of  marrying  for  money  ;  but  it  was  not  un- 
pleasant to  think  of  the  immense  wealth  that  would  be  his 
if  he  wedded  Leah  Hatton.  He  could  make  good  use  of  it. 
Would  any  one  believe  that  this  grand,  imperial  creature 
cared  enough  about  him  to  shed  tears  .^  He  was  still 
young  ;  not  only  was  his  heart  touched,  but  his  vanity  was 
"flattered  ;  it  raised  him  in  his  own  esteem  that  he  should 
all  unconsciously  have  won  the  love  of  such  a  woman. 
He  would  cultivate  her  society  more,  and,  if  he  found  the 
general's  assertions  to  be  true,  he  would  ask  her  to  be  his 
wife. 

As  he  returned  to  the  house,  calmer  in  mind  after  this 
decision,  it  seemed  to  him  a  strange  coincidence  that  he 
should  meet  the  duchess  and  Miss  Hatton.  The  duchess 
spoke  gayly  enough  ;  Leah's  face  flushed  crimson,  and  a 
thousand  welcomes  shone  in  her  dark  eyes.  For  no  other 
man  living  would  her  face  have  so  changed  and  brightened. 
On  the  previous  day  Sir  Basil  would  not  have  noticed  it ; 
now  it  struck  him. 

"  We  are  going  down  to  the  beach,"  said  the  duchess. 
**  Will  you  accompany  us.  Sir  Basil  ?  " 

"  With  pleasure,"  he  replied.  "  I  have  been  there  once 
fhTg  morning,  and  very  beautiful  the  sea  looks." 

They  strolled  on  to  the  yellow  sands,  where  the  waves 
rolled  in  briskly  and  broke  into  sheets  of  white  foam,  and 
sat  down  to  watch  the  incoming  tide.  In  one  heart  there 
was  unutterable  happiness  ;  Leah  had  read  something  in 
Sir  Basil's  face  which  she  had  never  seen  there  before. 
In  another  heart  there  was  unutterable  perplexity  \  for  $i( 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 


153 


Basil  saw  that  the  general  had  not  been  mistaken.  Read- 
ing all  that  passed  now  by  the  light  given  by  his  words, 
there  was  no  doubt  but  that  Leah  loved  him. 

"  They  are  beginning  to  understand  each  other/* 
thought  the  duchess,  as  she  listened  to  the  two  voices.  "  Ir 
is  possible  that  it  may  all  come  right  in  the  end." 

The  two  hours  they  spent  that  morning  on  the  beach 
seemed  to  Leah  to  pass  like  two  moments  ;  and  her  face 
grew  so  beautiful  in  her  new-found  happiness  that  it  dazed 
Sir  Basil  when  he  looked  upon  it.  Her  sister  Hettie,  her 
father,  and  all  the  horrors  of  her  past  life  were  for^oiteu 
in  the  bright  present. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


The  Duchess  of  Rosedene  had  decided  to  give  a 
grand  fancy-ball. 

*'  Let  me  design  a  costume  for  you,  Miss  Hatton," 
said  Sir  Basil.  "  I  once  went  to  a  fancy-ball  at  Naples, 
where  each  lady  was  dressed  to  represent  a  flower.  It 
was  the  prettiest  picture  imaginable.  Instead  of  Marie 
Stuarts,  La  Vallibres,  Joans  of  Arc,  and  Ponipadours,  we 
had  a  room  full  of  impersonations  of  beautiful  flowers.  I 
remember  the  *  Heartsease  ' — a  tall  girl,  dark,  pale,  and 
handsome,  dressed  in  velvet  of  the  color  of  a  purple  pansy, 
with  heartsease  in  her  hair  and  all  over  her  dress.  The 
*  White  Lily'  was  another  great  success.  There  was  a 
wanderful  variety  of  roses.  I  wish  you  could  have  seen 
the  *  Geranium' — it  was  a  most  charming  costume:  Now 
I  have  two  ideas  for  you,  Miss  Hatton — that  you  represent 
either  the  passion-flower  or  primrose." 

"  I  will  not  represent  the  passion  flower,"  she  said.  "  I 


1^4  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

was  very  found  of  it — I  am  now — but  it  has  strange 
memories  for  me." 

She  could  not  forget  that  it  was  amid  the  passion-flower 
sprays  that  she  had  first  seen  him.  She  would  not  wear 
them  to  dance  in. 

"  Very  well,"  he  said,  "  that  is  settled.  I  must  sketch 
a  primrose  costume  for  you.  That  will  suit  you  best — 
the  coloring  is  so  delicate.  You  must  have  a  pale  prim- 
rose-colored silk  that  will  fall  in  soft  folds,  with  fine  web- 
like lace;  you  must  have  primroses  in  your  hair  and 
round  your  neck  and  arms,  and  a  garland  of  the  flowers 
round  your  waist  ;  and  th'^  folds  of  silk  and  lace  must  be 
fastened  with  bunches  of  primroses  and  green  leaves." 

Leah  laughed  lightly.  She  was  delighted  that  he 
should  take  an  interest  in  her  dress.  He  seemed  to  watch 
her  looks  and  listen  to  her  words  with  keener  interest. 
His  manner  was  changed. 

"  You  speak  with  the  authority  of  a  Worth,"  she  re- 
plied. 

"  I  assure  you  that  such  a  costume  would  be  most  pic- 
turesque," he  said.     **  Wear  it  to  please  me." 

Over  her  face  rushed  a  wave  of  hot  color.  She  would 
do  an5^thing  to  please  him.  He  must  have  read  the  thought 
in  the  eyes  that  dropped  before  his. 

*'  I  will  have  the  dress  made  just  as  you  wish»"  she 
said  quietly. 

"  I  am  sure  that  you  will  be  charmed  with  it,"  he  told 
her  "  Yours  is  just  the  kind  of  coloring  that  pale  primrose 
will  suit." 

The  shy,  happy  eyes  looked  into  his,  and  Sir  Basil 
knew  that  every  word  the  general  had  said  was  true. 

The  duchess  was  delighted  with  the  young  baronet's 
suggestion. 

"  What  a  pretty  idea  !  "  she  said.  "  I  am  sure  T  shall 
like  it  much  better  than  all  those  stiff  costumes  and  imita- 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  155 

tions  of  queens  and  heroines.    I  have  to  thank  you  for  a 
vety  pleasing  inspiration,  Sir  Basil." 

Everything  conspired  to  make  the  ball  a  success.  The 
great  heat  had  passed  ;  the  sea-breeze  that  came  through 
the  woods  was  full  of  fragrance  ;  the  moon  was  bright  ; 
there  were  flowers  everywhere,  and  the  trees  were  brilliant- 
ly illuminated  with  lamps.  When  the  guests  were  tired 
with  dancing  or  wanted  to  seek  the  fresh  air,  they  had  but 
to  cross  the  conservatory  into  the  beautifully-illuminated 
grounds,  where  the  lamps,  the  sparkling  fountains,  the 
trees  all  silvered  by  the  moonlight,  and  the  picturesque 
groups  of  guests  made  up  a  scene  never  to  be  forgotten. 

The  duchess  was  charmed.  Leah  was  the  belle  ;  she 
never  looked  so  beautiful.  The  pale,  lovely  hue  of  the 
primrose  suited  her  to  perfection.  There  was  about  her 
this  evening  a  certain  consciousness  of  her  own  beauty ; 
those  who  looked  at  her  noticed  her  flush  of  delight,  the 
gleam  in  the  dark  eyes,  the  smile  on  the  perfect  lips.  The 
general  had  noticed  her  with  admiring  eyes. 

"  If  Sir  Basil  does  not  fall  in  love  with  her  to-n^'ght,  he 
has  neither  taste  nor  reason,  neither  sense  nor  heart,"  he 
said  to  himself.  "  What  more  could  man  desire  ?  Who  is 
more  worthy  of  love  than  she  ?  "  He  felt  happier  presently, 
for  he  saw  that  Sir  Basil  was  more  attentive  to  her. 

The  baronet  had  begged  her  to  give  him  the  first  waltz, 
and  then  he  asked  for  another.  He  was  beginning  to  feel 
the  intoxication  of  being  loved  by  a  beautiful  woman.  He 
saw  the  most  eligible  men  in  the  room  crowding  round  her. 
He  knew  there  were  some  present  who  would  give  any- 
thing they  possessed  for  the  smiles,  the  brightness  she  lav 
ished  upon  him,  and  which  were  his  without  asking.  It 
was  something  worth  living  for,  an  intoxication  of  vanity,  a 
triumph,  to  know  that  this  superb  woman  loved  him  ;  he 
had  but  to  speak,  and  her  whole  face  changed  for  him. 
She  loved  him — he  said  it  over  and  over  again  to  himself 


,^5  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

— ^this  woman  whose  smiles  were  so  hard  to  win.  He 
watched  her,  he  danced  with  her,  falling  every  moment 
more  and  more  under  the  spell  of  her  beauty  and  charms. 

"  You  are  tired,"  he  said,  when  the  dance  ended  and 
she  leaned  on  his  arm ;  "  come  out  into  the  moonlight  and 
rest." 

Ah,  the  beautiful  world  into  which  they  went !  There 
lay  the  broad  expanse  of  sea  in  the  far  distance,  the  moon 
shining  on  it :  around  them  were  the  brightly  illuminated 
grounds.  One  of  the  principal  fountains  was  a  marble 
Undine,  an  exquisitely-carved  figure,  whose  hand,  touch- 
ing a  marble  basin,  seemed  to  scatter  the  rippling  sprays 
of  water. 

*'  This  is  my  favorite  spot,"  said  Leah.  "  I  think  this 
Undine  is  the  fairest  work  of  art  in  Dene.  Have  you  no- 
ticed the  elegant  pose  of  the  head,  the  grace  of  the  up- 
raised hand,  as  though  she  were  bidding  the  waters  flow  ? " 

They  stood  still  for  a  few  moments,  looking  at  the  foun 
tain  in  the  moonlight.  The  marble  Undine  was  b!:autiful, 
with  its  statuesque  grace,  its  serene  calm ;  but  the  girl, 
with  her  passionate,  living  beauty,  the  moonlight  falling  on 
her  fair  face  and  on  the  rich  folds  of  pale  primrose,  was 
more  beautiful  still.  Slowly  but  surely  the  spell  of  that 
witching  hour  came  over  Sir  Basil.  The  knowledge  that 
Leah  loved  him,  the  faint  odor  of  the  flowers,  the  charm 
of  the  night  sky  and  the  distant  sea,  the  dark  eyes  that 
drooped  beneath  his  gaze,  the  white  hands  that  trembled 
in  his,  the  face  bent  over  the  dimpling  water — all  conspired 
to  shed  a  glamor  over  him. 

"  This  reminds  me  of  the  lovers'  night  in  the  *  Merchaat 
of  Venice,' "  he  said.  "  It  is  just  as  perfect ;  one  can 
think  of  nothing  but  flowers  and  love." 

-•  A  happy  night,"  she  returned,  gently,  bending  her 
face  over  the  glistening  marble. 

"  How  plainly  I  can  see  you  there  ! "  he  said,  looking 


THE  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  157 

at  the  reflecthn.  "  Every  primrose  can  be  seen  distinctly 
in  the  water.  Now  tell  me,  are  you  not  pleased  with  your 
costume  ? " 

"  If  you  are,"  she  sighed.  Her  heart  was  beating  fast 
with  a  passion  of  love  and  pain.  He  could  be  so  near  her, 
he  could  stand  with  her  in  that  lovely  spot,  and  yet  noth- 
ing  brought  his  heart  nearer  to  hers  I  She  did  not  know 
that  at  that  moment  he  cared  for  her  more  than  he  had 
ever  done  ;  for  Sir  Basil,  as  he  gazed  at  the  face  reflected 
in  the  water,  had  seen  something  there  which  had  stirred 
his  heart — a  sad,  wistful  look,  not  at  all  suited  to  the  beau- 
tiful face ;  and  he  knew  quite  well  what  had  called  it  there. 
It  was  love  for  himself. 

The  next  minute  he  had  clasped  her  hands  in  his,  and 
bending  over  her,  whispered  to  her  the  words  that  made 
the  music  of  her  life. 

She  made  no  answer — to  have  saved  her  life  she  could 
not  have  uttered  a  word ;  but  the  light  on  her  face  was 
answer  enough  to  him.  The  happy  eyes  fell ;  the  beauti- 
ful head,  with  its  primrose  crown,  rested  on  the  edge  of 
the  marble  basin.  In  her  heart  she  was  thanking  Heavea 
for  the  blessing  given  to  her. 

"  Do  you  love  me,  Leah  ?  "  he  asked. 

Ah,  Heaven,  the  love  that  shone  in  her  eyes,  that  radi- 
ated from  her  face  1  A  voice  of  sweetest  music  whis- 
pered,— 

"  I  have  loved  you  from  the  first  moment  I  saw  your 
face.     I  pray  Heaven  that  I  may  see  it  last  in  this  world.' 

The  words  fell  softly  over  the  rippling  walers,  softly  as 
the  sigh  of  a  summer  breeze  ;  and  when  they  ended  Sir 
Basil  kissed  her,  speechless  with  emotion. 

Three  days  afterwards  Sir  Basil  and  Leah  stood  looking 
again  at  the  marble  Undine.  The  sparkling  waters  were 
rising  now  in  the  sunlight,  and  as  they  fell  into  the  gieal 
marble  basin,  they  glistened  like  drops  of  gold. 


,^g  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

"  \  shall  always  love  the  Undine,"  said  Leah.  "  The 
duchess  has  promised  to  let  me  have  it  photographed,  and 
I  shall  keep  the  little  picture  where  I  can  always  see  it. 

Undine's  lover  gave  to  her  a  soul ;  you  gave  me " 

*'  What  ? "  he  asked,  gently,  seeing  that  she  paused. 
"  You  have  given  me  life."  she  said. 

There  was  no  misgiving  in  her  mind,  not  the  faintest 
doubt.  She  believed  implicily  that  he  loved  her  as  she 
loved  him.  They  were  the  two  halves  of  one  soul ;  now 
they  were  united  and  shared  but  one  life,  one  soul  between 
them.  Sure  that  he  felt  as  she  did,  she  made  no  secret  of 
her  love.  She  did  not  measure  her  words  ;  she  disclosed 
her  whole  heart  to  him. 

She  puzzled  him  greatly  on  one  occasion.  They  had 
wandered  through  the  woods  down  to  the  sea.  The  tide 
was  rolling  in  ;  the  sun  shone  on  the  water  till  it  looked 
like  burnished  gold ;  afar  off  gleamed  the  white  sails  of 
many  a  graceful  yacht.  Beautiful  as  was  this  fair  world, 
love  made  it  fairer.  They  sat  under  the  shelter  of  the 
cliffs ;  and  Leah  turned  from  the  rippling  waves  to  look  at 
her  lover's  face. 

*'  Basil,"  she  said,  "  I  have  often  wished  to  ask  you — 
did  you  recognize  me  on  the  morning  that  you  met  me 
first?" 

**  On  the  morning  when  you  stood  like  a  beautiful  statue, 
draped  in  white  and  gold,  among  the  passion-flowers  ? " 
he  said.     "  What  a  picture  you  presented,  Leah  1 " 

*'  Did  you  recognize  me  ? "  she  repeated. 

**  In  what  way,  my  darling  ? "  he  asked. 

•'  As  I  did  you.  I  knew  in  one  moment  that  the  lover 
for  whom  I  had  waited  had  come  at  last.  How  strange 
that  I  always  had  that  feeling  !  Sometimes,  when  the 
duchess  talked  to  me,  and  seemed  angry  because  I  had 
dismissed  one  whom  she  considered  an  eligible  suitor — 
sometimes  my  courage  failed  me.     She  thought  my  ideas 


A  BROfChN  WEDDliVG'RnVG.  j^g 

vain  and  sentimental.  Yet,  you  see,  I  was  right.  Tell 
me,  Basil,  did  you  recognize  me  ?  Did  you  say  to  yourself, 
*  That  is  the  girl  who  has  been  made  for  me,  the  one 
woman  out  of  the  whole  wide  world  who  is  to  be  my  wife  ? ' 
Did  you,  Basil  ? " 

He  v/as  puzzled.  If  he  had  said  "  No,"  she  would  be 
unhappy,  and  he  could  not  bear  to  cloud  her  beautiful  face  ; 
yet  he  could  not  say  "  Yes  "  without  swerving  from  the 
truth. 

"  Men  have  not  those  quick  intuitions,"  he  said.  "  That 
which  a  woman  knows,  discerns  by  instinct,  is  some  time 
in  piercing  the  denser  brain  and  more  stolid  heart  of  a 
man." 

She  looked  a  little  disappointed. 

"  When  did  you  find  it  out  then  ? "  she  asked,  anxiously. 

"  Find  what  out,  Leah  ?  " 

**  Why,  that  you  loved  me,  Basil." 

In  spite  of  himself  a  flush  rose  to  his  face,  but  she  took 
that  as  a  sign  of  loving  emotion. 

"  Am  I  to  tell  you  the  exact  hour  and  minute  ?  "  he  said, 
laughingly. 

"  If  you  can,"  she  replied. 

"I  cannot,  Leah.  I  suppose,  as  the  novelists  say,  'it 
stole  upon  me  unawares.' " 

*•  Basil,"  she  whispered,  "do  tell  me  one  thing.  When 
you  are  away  from  me,  you  know,  I  like  to  sit  and  think 
over  every  word  that  you  have  said  to  me,  I  like  to  dwell 
on  all  the  pleasant  and  happy  thoughts  I  have  about  you. 
Tell  me,  Basil,  did  you  admire  me  when  you  first  saw 
me?" 

"  Indeed,  I  did,"  he  replied,  heartily.  "  I  thought  you 
then,  as  I  think  you  now,  the  fairest  woman  in  the  world." 

"  Did  you  ?  I  am  so  glad.  I  am  well  content  that  vou 
should  think  me  fair.     I  have  never  cared  or  though*: 


l6o  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

about  what  people  call  my  good  looks ;  but  now  I  am 
glad,  since  they  please  you." 

He  was  very  near  loving  her,  she  was  so  loving  to  him. 
Yet  even  on  that  morning,  when  she  opened  her  mind  to 
him  as  a  flower  opens  its  petals  to  the  sun,  even  then  he  * 
did  not  catch  one  spark  of  the  divine  fire  that  men  call  love. 
The  time  came  when  she  counted  the  happy  days  of  her 
life,  and  this  was  one  of  the  brightest. 

The  news  of  their  engagement  had  been  made  public  at 
once.  Sir  Basil  had  gone  direct  to  the  general  and  told 
him.  They  had  not  said  much  to  each  other,  but  the  gen- 
eral was  greatly  comforted.  He  believed  that  Sir  Basil 
had  grown  to  love  his  niece,  therefore,  all  was  well. 

The  duchess  was  not  surprised  ;  she  had  foreseen  the 
result  from  the  first,  she  said.  She  congratulated  Sir  Basil 
in  such  a  fashion  that  he  was  prouder  than  ever  of  what 
he  had  won. 

"  I  shall  always  think  of  ybu,"  she  said,  "  as  of  a  most 
remarkable  man.  You  have  won  for  yourself  what  no 
other  could  win." 

Later  on  she  said  to  Leah,  after  kissing  her  : 
"  I  am  right  well  pleased,  my  dear.    I  suppose,  Leah, 
it  is  *  this  or  none  ? ' " 

"  Heaven  has  been  very  good  to  me,  and  has  given  me 
my  heart's  desire,"  replied  the  girl,  as  her  eyes  filled  with 
tears. 

There  was  to  be  no  hurry  about  the  wedding.  Glen 
must  be  altered  and  improved,  must  be  decorated  and  re- 
furnished. Dunng  the  spring  of  the  coming  year  a  gen- 
eral election  was.  expected,  and  Sir  Basil  would  be  busy 
trying  to  secure  a  seat  in  Parliament.  It  was  agreed  on 
all  sides  that  the  marriage  should  not  take  place  just  yet. 
Noi  did  Leah  wish  it  to  be  otherwise.  She  was  supremely 
happy  )  her  life  wab  crowned,  her  love  was  blessed.    The 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  16 1 

general  and  his  niece  remained  a  few  weeks  longer  at 
Dene  Abbey,  and  then  returned  to  Brentwood. 

Leah  took  with  her  the  photograph  of  the  marble  Un- 
dine, but  no  one  save  Sir  Basil  understood  why  she  prized 
it.  She  was  perfectly  content ;  there  was  no  cloud  in  her 
sky,  she  had  no  misgiving,  no  fear.  Just  as  the  glowing 
sun  absorbs  all  minor  lights,  so  her  passionate  love 
eclipsed  all  else.  She  wished  for  nothing  save  that  Hettie 
should  know  how  happy  she  was.  She  would  have  liked 
to  tell  her  fair-haired,  beloved  sister  of  this  love  which 
made  her  one  of  the  happiest  women  in  the  world. 

The  general  and  Leah  went  back  to  Brentwood,  Sir 
Basil  returned  to  Glen,  and  the  months  that  followed  were 
full  of  quiet  happiness.  Every  day  brought  the  master  of 
Glen  over  to  Brentwood.  As  the  whole  mansion  was  in 
the  hands  of  workmen,  he  often  remained  at  the  general's 
long  days  together.  The  more  Sir  Arthur  saw  of  him  the 
more  he  liked  him  ;  he  never  wearied  of  sounding  his 
praises  to  his  niece — he  loved  him  as  he  would  have  loved 
a  son  of  his  own. 

Those  happy  weeks  bound  the  heart  of  Leah  so  com- 
pletely to  her  lover,  made  her  life  so  entirely  one  with  his, 
that  nothing  but  death  could  have  taken  her  from  him. 

When  Christmas  came,  the  snow  was  lying  on  the 
ground. 

As  Leah  was  one  day  watching  the  whirl  of  the  soft 
snowflakes,  her  mind  went  back  to  the  little  house  in  Man- 
chester, where  she  and  Hettie  had  been  so  long  together. 
Suddenly  she  went  in  search  of  her  uncle,  whom  she  found 
in  the  library. 

He  wondered  at  the  emotion  on  her  face. 

"  Uncle,"  she  said,  "  give  me  permission  to  speak  to 
you.     I  would  not  ask  it  but  that  I  am  ill  with  suspense." 

"  Say  what  you  will,  my  dear,"  responded  Sir  Arthur, 
drawing  the  beautiful  face  to  him  and  kissing  it. 


,62  ^  BROKEN-  WEDDING-RING. 

**  You  have  forbidden  me  to  speak  on  the  subject,"  she 
said.  "  I  hardly  like  to  presume  upon  the  permission  you 
now  give  me,  but  I  had  a  terrible  dream  last  night,  and  it 
has  troubled  me  so  much." 

"  Surely  you  do  not  believe  in  dreams,  Leah  ? "  laughed 
the  general. 

"  I  do  not,"  she  replied  :  "  but  this  has  haunted  me  all 
day.  I  dreamed  that,  although  I  was  going  to  marry 
Basil,  something  always  parted  us  ;  that  I  never  could  see 
him,  though  I  could  hear  his  voice  ;  and  then,  when  I  fol- 
lowed it,  I  could  not  find  him.  If  I  was  in  his  presence, 
there  was  always  a  thick  veil  of  crape  between  us,  which  I 
could  not  tear  away.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  nervous  it  has 
made  me.  It  seems  like  a  foreboding  that  we  are  to  part." 

*'  Nonsense,  Leah  ! "  laughed  the  general.  "  There 
must  be  many  partings  in  this  world,  but  rest  assured  that 
while  you  both  live  there  will  never  be  one  between  Sir 
Basil  and  you." 

She  looked  a  little  relieved,  but  the  cloud  still  rested  on 
the  fair  face. 

"  I  thought  you  would  perhaps  laugh,  uncle,  but  you 
must  listen  to  something  else  that  I  have  to  say.  I  have 
been  trying  to  think  if  there  is  anything  on  earth  which 
could  part  us,  and  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
only  thing  I  have  to  fear  is  the  announcement  of  the  fact 
that  I  am  Martin  Ray's  daughter.     He  must  know  that." 

"  Certainly.  I  shall  tell  him  myself,"  said  the  general. 
"  I  have  always  intended  to  do  so,  but  not  yet — not  yet, 
Leah.  Believe  me  that  it  will  make  no  difference.  I  have 
talked  a  great  deal  with  him  on  political  matters,  and  his 
opinions  are  not  one-half  so  strong  as  mine  are.  You  need 
not  have  the  least  fear  on  that  score,  Leah,  I  assure  you. 
I  shall  tell  him  of  your  parentage,  and  he  will  be  surprised ; 
but  you  are  the  child  of  my  sister  as  well  as  of  Martin 
Ray.    Do  not  forget  that.    There  has  been  no  deceit. 


A  BROKEN-  WEDDING-RING.  163 

The  simple  fact  is  that  in  adopting  you  I  have  given  you 
my  name,  because  I  did  not  care  to  have  your  prospects 
in  life  spoiled  by  associating  yours  with  Martin  Ray.  Any 
one  would  understand  that.  I  know  Sir  Basil  thoroughly. 
He  will  not  mind.  There  are  some  men  who  might  object, 
but  he  is  not  one  of  them." 

"  I  shall  be  glad  when  you  have  told  him,"  she  said, 
quietly.  "  I  do  not  like  even  the  shadow  of  a  secret  between 
us.  But  you  have  taken  all  fear  from  me.  I  never  re- 
member to  have  been  nervous  before.  I  wonder  of  what 
it  is  the  sign  ?  " 

Sir  Arthur  smiled  as  he  raised  the  beautiful  face  and 
kissed  it. 

"  I  can  tell  you,  Leah,"  he  replied,  "  it  is  a  sign  that 
you  love  Sir  Basil  with  all  your  heart,  and  that  the  faintest 
fear  of  ever  being  parted  from  him  is  to  you  like  the  over- 
shadowing of  a  great  calamity." 

"  Yes,"  she  assented,  with  a  happy  smile.  "  But  is  it 
not  better  to  love  too  much  than  not  to  love  at  all  ? " 

"  I  cannot  say,"  replied  the  general ;  "  of  the  love  you 
speak  about,  that  fills  your  heart,  I  know  nothing." 

"  Perhaps  you  would  be  quite  a  different  man,  uncle,  if 
such  were  not  the  case,"  she  saii,  laughing  in  her  cniirni- 
ing  f  ashioxL 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


Christmas  passed  by  ;  the  reign  of  King  Winter  wq? 
ended.     Spring  was  come  ;  the  odor  of  violets  filled  th( 
air,  the  birds  began  to  build,  and  the  hedges  clothed  them 
selves  with  green. 
.,     After  sundry  flying  visits  to  the  metropolis,  Sir  Arthur 


l54  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

decided  to  take  up  his  residence  in  London  at  the  end  of 
April. 

"  You  will  not  mind  that,  Leah  ? "  he  asked. 

"  No,  though,  if  it  were  possible,  I  would  rather  stay 
here  at  Brentwood  than  go  to  London  at  all." 

"  It  would  cause  a  revolution,"  said  Sir  Arthur.  "  I  dare 
not  think  of  such  a  thing.' 

"  One  thing  is  certain,"  remarked  Leah — "  every  one 
will  know  of  my  engagement,  and  I  shall  have  more  time 
to  myself.     I  wonder  when  Basil  will  go  ?  " 

"  I  think  he  spoke  of  going  next  week ;  he  will  not  re- 
main at  his  country  seat  alone.  He  will  be  compelleid, 
however,  to  leave  town  every  now  and  then,  and  spend  a 
few  hours  at  Glen,  to  see  how  the  work  progresses." 

"  I  shall  be  glad  when  the  season  is  over,  and  we  are 
here  in  peace  again,"  said  Leah. 

"  Are  you  beginning  to  tire  of  gayeties,  Leah  ?  "  asked 
Sir  Arthur. 

"  I  think  it  is  not  that,  uncle,"  she  said,  gently ;  "  it  is 
that  my  heart  is  more  at  rest  here." 

Sir  Basil  was  spending  a  few  days  at  Brentwood  before 

\  the  general  and  his  niece  started  for  London.   .  He  asked 

Leah  one  morning,  when  she  was  giving  orders  about  the 

packing,  if  she  could  spare  him  .  five  minutes ;  he   had 

something  very  particular  to  say  to  her. 

She  smiled  to  herself  at  the  request.  How  cheerfully 
and  gladly  she  would  have  given  him  every  moment  of  her 
time,  if  he  had  wanted  it ! 

"  You  look  very  serious,  Basil,"  she  said. 

"  I  want  to  speak  to  you  on  a  grave  subject,"  he  replied. 

They  were  standing  in  the  deep  recess  of  a  large  bay- 
window  ;  the  odor  of  violets  filled  the  room.  Sir  Basil 
took  from  his  pocket  a  small  morocco  ring-case. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  he  said,  "  whether  our  family  custom 
will  please  you,  Leah.    I  have  heard  that  some  of  the 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  165 

Ladies  Carlton  did  not  like  the  fashion  ;  and,  if  it  does  not 
find  favor  in  your  eyes,  I  will  lay  the  old  custom  aside." 

"  Anything  will  please  me,"  she  told  him,  "  that  pleases 
you." 

*'  Every  family  has,  I  suppose,  its  own  traditions  and 
customs,"  said  Sir  Basil.  *'  I  can  tell  you  the  origin  of 
this  custom.  One  of  our  ancestors  saved  his  sovereign's 
life.  He  was  out  hunting  with  his  royal  master,  who  was 
wont  to  brag  of  his  prowess,  yet  at  heart  was  a  coward. 
The  details  would  not  interest  you,  but  our  ancestor  cov- 
ered an  act  of  arrant  cowardice  of  the  king's,  and  at  the 
same  time  saved  his  life.  The  incident  happened  a  few 
days  before  the  wedding-day  of  Hugh  Carlton,  and  the 
kpg  insisted  upon  presenting  the  wedding-ring.  It  was  a 
magnificent  circlet  of  thick  pale  gold,  with  the  royal  arms 
engraved  within.  The  then  Lady  Carlton  wore  it  with 
vast  satisfaction,  and  was  proud  of  it.  When  she  lay  dead 
in  her  coffin  it  was  taken  from  her  hand.  Hugh  Carlton 
did  not  care  to  bury  the  gift  of  a  king  ;  he  took  the  ring 
from  her  finger  and  kept  it  by  him.  In  the  course  of  a  few 
years  he  married  again,  and  he  used  the  same  wedding- 
ring.  During  all  the  succeeding  generations  the  same 
thing  has  been  done  :  all  the  heads  of  the  house  of  Carlton 
have  married  their  wives  with  this  ring.  Two  hundred 
years  since  it  was  a  thick  gold  circlet  with  superb  dia- 
monds ;  now  the  diamonds  are  all  gone,  and  the  ring  has 
grown  thin  by  constant  wear.  I  am  not  quite  sure ;  but  I 
think  it  was  melted  down  once,  and  more  gold  added  to  it, 
and  then  re-made.  My  grandmother.  Lady  Dorothea 
Carlton,  wore  it :  my  dear  mother  wore  it ;  and  now  I  offer 
it  to  you,  my  love.  It  shall  be  just  as  you  like,  Leah ;  if 
you  would  prefer  a  new  one,  I  will  get  one — if  you  would 
like  to  wear  the  same  that  so  many  Ladies  Carleton  have 
worn,  then  keep  it." 

"  What  would  you  like  me  to  do  ? "  she  asked.    "  The 


i66  A  BROKEN  WEDDING'RINC, 

tradition  is  of  your  house,  not  of  mine.  Is  there  any 
legend  about  the  wedding-ring  ?  " 

"  Yes,  this — that  whoever  wears  it  lives  long  and  hap- 
pily. If  you  ask  me  what  I  should  like  you  best  to  do,  I 
say  most  certainly  let  it  be  your  wedding-ring.  Let  me 
see,  Leah,  if  it  will  fit  you." 

He  took  it  from  the  little  case,  and  she  looked  at  it 
with  some  reverence.  So  this  was  the  king's  gift,  and  this 
was  the  famous  Carlton  wedding-ring !  On  how  many 
slender  girlish  hands  had  it  been  placed  ?  From  how 
many  dead  white  fingers  had  it  been  taken  ?  There  was 
something  almost  weird  and  uncanny  about  it." 

"  My  mother  had  a  beautiful  little  hand,"  he  said,  "  but 
the  legend  did  not  hold  good  in  her  case  ;  her  life  was  not 
a  long  or  a  happy  one.  My  father  died  when  she  was  quite 
young,  and  the  terrible  tragedy  of  my  sister's  death  came 
soon  after.     She  had  a  troubled  life." 

He  took  her  hand  and  placed  the  ring  upon  her  finger. 
It  fitted  her  exactly,  as  though  it  had  been  made  for  her. 

*'  Have  those  who  wore  this  ring  been  happy  wives,  do 
you  think,  Basil  ?  "  she  asked,  tremblingly,  looking  up  at 
her  lovei'. 

"  I  hope  that  all  wives  are  happy.  Why  should  they 
not  be  ? "  He  was  thinking  of  something  else,  and  haidly 
knew  what  he  was  saying. 

"  I  have  seen  many  wives  who  were  not  happy.  What 
wife  could  be  happy  if  her  husband  did  not  love  her  ?  " 

"  But,  my  dearest  Leah,  we  must  presume  that  every 
husband  does  love  his  wife." 

"  Yes,  at  first,"  she  said,  slowly.  "  No  honorable  man 
would  ask  a  woman  to  marry  him  unless  he  loved  her." 

She  spoke  very  earnestly,  her  face  slightly  flushed, 
holding  the  old-fashioned  wedding-ring  in  her  hand.  Some- 
thing in  her  words  struck  him  with  pain  ;  yet  she  did  not 
doubt  him.     He  thanked  heaven  at  that  moment  that  she 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  167 

would  never  know  how  her  uncle's  affection  for  her  had 
caused  him  to  interfere  in  her  behalf. 

"If  this  ring  could  speak,"  she  said,  "  if  it  could 
tell  the  history  of  all  the  wives  who  have  worn  it — the  hap- 
py and  the  unhappy,  the  loved  and  the  unloved — it  would 
fill  a  volume,  Basil.  And  some  d^y — it  may  be  soon 
or  many  years  may  pass  first — when  I  lie  dead,  it  will  be 
.  drawn  from  my  finger.  If  you,  Basil,  should  be  the  one 
to  remove  it,  you  will  think  of  the  hour  when  you  first  gave 
it  to  me." 

She  raised  her  face  for  him  to  caress  her,  and  he  kissed 
the  beautiful  lips.     He  drew  her  to  his  breast  and  said, — 

"  My  darling,  I  hope  it  will  be  many  long  years  before 
that  time,  and  I  hope  I  shall  die  first." 

He  knew  how  much  she  loved  him  then,  for  she  clung 
to  him  with  passionate  words  and  bitter  tears. 

"  Ah,  no  ! "  she  cried.  "  If  ever  you  offer  up  a  prayer 
for  me,  Basil,  let  it  be  that,  when  Heaven  calls  you,  I  may 
go* with  you.  I — ah  me,  you  know,  Basil,  I  could  not  live 
without  you !     I  could  not  even  try." 

"  Because  you  love  me  so,  my  Leah  ?"  he  asked,  tenderly. 

**  Yes,  because  I  love  you  so.  Do  you  not  feel  so  as 
regards  myself  ?  If  I  died,  could  you  live  ?  Would  not 
the  world  become  a  dreary  blank  to  you?  Ah,  Basil,  I 
am  sure  that  if  you  died  I  should  never  eat,  never  sleep, 
never  smile  again  !  '* 

He  was  greatly  touched  by  her  words. 

"  You  love  me  so  much  t "  he  said  again. 

"  Yes,  I  love  you  so  dearly,"  she  replied — "  you  will 
never  know  how  dearly.  There  are  times  when  I  think 
that  men  never  appreciate  or  never  understand  the  great 
love  of  women." 

"  I  will  try  to  understand  yours,  Leah,"  he  said,gentl 
*'  1  hope,"  he  added,  with  genuine  earnestness,  "  X  shi;. 
make  you  happy,  Leah." 


iSS  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

**  Happy,"  she  repeated,  as  though  the  word  surprised 
her^-"  happy.    You  love  me,  Basil,  do  you  not  ? " 

"  Yes,"  he  replied. 

"  Then  how  can  I  help  being  happy  ?  I  could  not  be 
anything  else.  Many  people  live  with  divided  loves; 
they  share  their  affections ;  they  have  mothers,  brothers. 
I  have  only  you.  I  mean  that  all  my  love  is  concentrated 
on  you.  The  other  lesser  loves  are  absorbed  by  it,  as  the 
river  absorbs  the  waters  of  its  tributary  brooklets.  Ah, 
Basil,  I  shall  always  be  so  pleased  that  you  brought  this 
wedding-ring  to  me !  It  seems  to  have  made  it  easier  for 
me  to  talk  to  you  about  my  love." 

"  Has  it  not  always  been  so,  Leah  ?  "  he  asked. 

She  had  half  hidden  her  face  against  his  breast.  She 
raised  it  now,  bright  with  unutterable  tenderness. 

"  No,  not  always,"  she  replied.  "  Sometimes  my  heart 
is  quite  full,  and  I  try  to  tell  you,  but  I  cannot.  Some- 
times, when  you  are  away  from  me,  I  think  of  all  that  I 
shall  say  when  I  see  you  next ;  a  thousand  thoughts  come 
to  me,  a  thousand  words  that  I  long  to  speak.  And  then, 
when  you  come,  I  am  mute  ;  my  fancies  leave  me  in  the 
sweet  reality  of  your  presence.  You  know  what  Shakes- 
peare says,  Basil  ? — 

'*  *  Oh,  sweet  love,  I  always  write  to  yoo. 
And  you  and  love  are  still  my  argument! 
So  all  my  best  is  dressing  old  words  new. 
Spending  again  what  is  already  spent ; 

For,  as  the  sun  is  new  and  old, 

So  is  my  love  still  telling  what  is  told! '  < 

Are  they  not  noble  lines,  Basil  ?  " 

"  Yes,  very.  How  well  you  understand  all  this  wonder- 
ful science  of  love,  Leah  !  " 

"  And  you  ?  '*  she  said,  looking  up  at  him.  "  Do  you 
not  understand  it,  too  ?  " 

*'  I  have  had  the  sweetest  teacher  the  world  ever  saw !  ** 


A  BROKEN  WEDDm^'RING,  169 

cried  Sir  Basil  "  I  can  understand  men  losing  the  whole 
world  for  the  love  of  one  woman." 

"  Would  you  lose  it,  dear,  for  me  ?  "  she  asked,  putting 
her  arms  around  his  neck, 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  unthinkingly. 

"  I  shall  feel  doubly  married  when  I  wear  this,"  she 
said,  still  holding  the  little  ring  in  her  hand.  "  It  will  not 
only  bind  me  to  you,  but  to  all  the  race  of  Carl  tons.  Let 
me  keep  it,  Basil,  until  our  wedding-day." 

"  Certainly,"  he  said.  "  I  am  glad  it  is  in  such  safe, 
sweet  keeping,  Leah.  If  you  like,  it  can  be  made  to  look 
just  like  a  new  ring." 

"  No,"  she  replied,  touching  it  with  her  lips,  "  I  like  it 
better  as  your  mother  wore  it.  All  the  new  wedding-rings 
in  the  world  would  be  nothing  by  the  side  of  this." 

"  You  must  not  wear  it  till  we  are  married,"  he  said ; 
"  that  would  be  unlucky." 

He  watched  her  as,  with  a  happy  smile,  she  placed  the 
ring  in  the  case  and  then  closed  it. 

A  few  days  after  that  they  were  in  London  ;  and  Leah's 
heart  beat  more  quickly  and  lightly  when  she  thought  of 
the  treasure  hidden  in  the  jewel  case." 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


i^«j  «jeason  was  a  brilliant  one.  The  news  of  Mis5 
Ka#ion's  engagement  was  received  by  some  with  pleasure, 
by  others  with  annoyance.  Those  who  had  known  her  be* 
fore  saw  a  wonderful  change  in  her ;  the  restless  expression 
had  gone  from  her  face,  and  in  its  place  reigned  perfect 
aim.  No  one  could  lopk  at  her  and  not  know  that  she 
was  happy  beyond  words.     In  time  the  crpwd  of  **  fashion- 


1 70  ^  BROKEN'  WEDDING-RING, 

ables  "  grew  accustomed  to  seeing  Sir  Basil  always  by  hef 
side ;  even  her  admirers  accepted  the  situation  and  resign^ 
edly  took  the  second  place. 

Sir  Basil  tried  by  the  most  assiduous  attention  to  make 
up  for  any  shortcoming  there  might  be  in  his  love.  He 
was  Leah's  shadow.  Every  day  brought  her  flowers,  books, 
music,  presents  of  every  kind,  from  one  who  externally 
was  the  most  devoted  of  lovers.  There  were  times  when 
he  almost  believed  himself  to  be  one  of  the  happiest  men 
living,  when  he  was  lost  in  wonder  at  the  prize  he  had  won, 
and  tried  to  assure  himself  that  there  was  nothing  left  for 
him  to  desire.  Yet  he  knew  that  the  depths  of  his  heart 
had  never  been  stirred,  that  he  was  capable  of  a  deeper, 
far  greater  love  than  this ;  his  heart  had  never  yet  beaten 
the  quicker  for  any  word  of  Leah's  ;  he  had  a  kindly  affec- 
tion for  her — that  was  all.  He  would  have  given  her  the 
love  of  his  manhood  if  he  could  have  done  so ;  but  she  had 
failed  to  touch  his  heart.  Sh  would  never  know  it.  He 
would  make  her  happy,  he  coul  crown  her  life,  and  she 
should  never  suspect  that  he  had  not  loved  her  with  his 
whole  heart  and  of  his  own  free  will.  It  did  not  occur  to 
him  that  it  was  a  dangerous  thing  to  marry  without  love, 
no  matter  how  great  the  temptation  might  be  ;  he  forgot 
that  few  men  pass  through  life  without  some  touch  of  the 
great  fever  called  love  ;  nor  did  he  reflect  that  the  fever 
might  awake  in  his  heart  when  it  was  all  too  late.  Leah's 
beauty  delighted  him,  her  grace  and  brilliancy  fascinated 
him,  he  rejoiced  in  the  admiration  that  her  loveliness  ex- 
cited, but  it  was  not  love  that  shone  in  his  eyes  as  he  gazed 
upon  her ;  and  she  was  too  much  engrossed  in  her  own 
love  and  happiness  to  notice  any  failure  in  him. 

One  evening,  by  some  mischance.  Sir  Basil  had  been 
unable  to  accompany  Leah  to  the  theatre,  and  she  had 
gone  with  the  Duchess  of  Rosedene.  It  was  ^o  see 
**  Pygmalion  and  Galatea/* 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  171 

By  some  strange  fortune  Hettie  was  in  the  theatre  that 
night.  Martin  Ray  had  long  been  ailing,  and  had  lived 
for  the  last  two  years  in  the  country.  He  had  come  up  to 
town  on  business,  and,  for  his  own  comfort's  sake,  he  had 
brought  Hettie  with  him.  The  landlady  of  the  house  where 
he  was  staying  happened  to  have  some  tickets  sent  to  her, 
and  she  begged  Miss  Ray  to  accept  one.  Hettie,  who  seldom 
had  any  kind  of  enjoyment,  whose  life  was  one  monotonous 
round  of  duty,  was  eager  to  avail  herself  of  it.  Martin 
Ray  raised  no  objection  ;  he  would  be  busy  that  svening 
with  his  companions,  and  she  could  please  herself. 

Hettie  was  delighted  She  had  .grown  into  a  lovely 
girl.  She  had  not  the  brilliancy  of  Leah ;  she  had  not 
her  fire  or  passion  ;  she  lacked  her  spirit  and  daring.  But 
she  was  sweet  and  loving ;  her  angelic  face  told  of  an  an- 
gelic nature ;  her  fair,  tranquil  loveliness  touched  men's 
hearts  as  does  the  strain  of  sweet  music.  One  felt  the 
better  even  for  looking  at  her ;  mean  thoughts  died  in  her 
presence.  She  was  "  in  the  world,  but  not  of  it ;  "  pa- 
tience, self-sacrifice,  resignation  were  written  in  each  line 
of  her  sweet  face.  Her  golden  hair  had  a  darker  sheen, 
her  eyes  a  deeper  light  than  they  had  on  the  night  when 
she  lost  the  sister  who  had  been  to  her  as  the  half  of  her- 
self. She  was  still  in  the  very  springtide  of  her  girlhood 
and  nothing  more  fair,  more  loving,  or  more  true  could  be 
Xxiagined. 

Her  life  had  not  been  a  happy  one.  The  loss  of  his 
brilliant  daughter,  for  whom  he  had  formed  such  great 
plans,  had  soured  and  embittered  Martin  Ray.  From  the 
moment  that  Hettie  had  drawn  away  from  Leah,  and 
placed  her  arms  around  her  father's  neck,  she  had  been 
most  devoted  to  him  ;  with  angelic  patience  she  had  borne 
with  all  his  discontent,  his  grumbling,  his  angry  denuncia- 
tion, his  sullen  resentment  against  the  whole  world,  his  sel- 
fish neglect  of  her.     Sne  waited  upon  him  during  the  day 


172  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

and  then  sat  up  during  half  the  night  to  copy  papers  or  to 
make  extracts  for  him.  Her  patience  never  wearied.  If 
any  one  pitied  or  sympathized  with  her,  she  would  say,  with 
her  sweetest  smile, "  My  poor  father,  he  has  had  so  much  to 
bear  !  "    She  was  utterly  unselfish. 

No  words  could  tell  how  she  had  thought  of  her  beautiful 
sister — how  she  dreamed  of  her,  longed  for  her — how  she 
tried  to  fancy  what  she  had  grown  like  and  what  she  was 
doing.  Going  to  London  made  her  think  of  Leah  more 
than  ever.  They  had  been  living  in  a  small  country  town, 
for  Martin  Ray's  health  was  failing.  There  could  be  no 
hope  of  seeing  her  sister  there  ;  but  here,  in  London  there, 
was  a  possibility.  Hettie  watched  the  newspapers,  and  soon 
found  that  General  Sir  Arthur  Hatton,  with  his  beautiful 
niece,  lived  at  Harbury  House.  Some  time,  when  her 
father  was  out,  and  she  had  a  leisure  hour,  she  would 
go  to  Harbury  House ;  she  would  pass  and  repass  it 
a^she  would  stand  opposite  to  it.  She  did  so,  but 
never  once  did  she  see  Leah.  Though  both  were  living 
in  the  great  city,  they  were  far  apart  as  the  poles.  In 
her  heart  all  day  she  cried  for  Leah  ;  on  her  lips  trembled 
always  the  name  of  *'  Leah."  She  read  in  the  newspapers 
of  Leah's  triumph — that  she  was  one  of  the  most  admired 
and  popular  queens  of  society.  She  read  of  Leah  at  court 
with  the  Duchess  of  Rosedene,  of  Leah  at  State  ball  and 
concert,  of  Leah  at  the  most  exclusive  and  recherche  enter- 
tainments in  London  ;  and  she  longed  with  all  her  loving 
heart  to  see  her  in  her  grandeur  and  magnificence,  to  gaze 
once  more  at  the  beautiful  face  and  into  the  dark  eyes, 
Her  own  eyes  grew  hot  with  burning  tears  when  she 
thought  of  them. 

The  desire  of  her  heart  was  unexpectedly  granted. 
She  went  to  the  theatre,  little  dreaming  that  her  sister 
would  be  there  on  that  same  evening  in  all  her  brilliancy 
and  magnificence.    Hettie  and  her  companion  were  in  the 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  173 

pit — and  even  that  seemed  a  great  thing  to  the  girl.  The 
landlady  had  apologized ;  she  would  have  liked  to  take 
Miss  Ray  to  the  dress  circle,  but  it  was  not  possible. 
Simple,  kindly  Hettie  protested  that  the  pit  was  the  very 
best  part  of  the  theatre — it  was  cooler  and  one  could  see 
the  stage  better  ;  which  view  of  the  matter  largely  helped 
to  comfort  her  companion. 

While  the  curtain  was  down  Hettie  amused  herself  by 
looking  round  the  house.  The  scene  was  a  complete 
novelty  to  her.  She  enjoyed  seeing  the  fair  faces,  the  rich 
dresses,  gleaming  jewels,  and  exquisite  bouquets.  After 
a  short  time  she  noticed  that  the  attention  of  many  people 
was  directed  towards  a  box  on  the  grand  tier.  She  won- 
dered what  was  the  source  of  attraction,  and  she  looked 
herself  in  the  same  direction.  Her  eyes  brightened  and 
her  beautiful  features  assumed  an  expression  of  wonder. 
It  could  never  be — and  yet She  saw  a  lady  dressed  su- 
perbly in  satin  of  the  color  of  the  most  delicate  heliotrope, 
with  a  suite  of  magnificent  opals — a  handsome  woman  with 
a  stately  graceful  bearing,  her  face  a  charming  combina- 
tion of  refinement  and  happiness.  She  carried  a  fan,  the 
handle  of  which  blazed  with  jewels,  and  before  her  lay  a 
bouquet  of  costly  flowers.  With  her  was  a  younger  lady,  so 
beautiful  that  Hettie's  eyes  were  dazed  as  she  looked  at 
her.  She  wore  some  soft  shining  material  shrouded  in 
rich  black  lace.  Her  hair  was  fastened  with  diamond 
stars.  Before  her  lay  a  bouquet  of  scarlet  passion-flowers. 
The  graceful  arch  of  the  neck,  the  gleaming  white  shoul- 
ders, the  proud  carriage  of  the  *head  were  all  Leah's." 

A  cry  rose  to  Hettie's  white  lips,  which  she  repressed  ; 
fiCr  heart  beat  fast,  and  something  like  a  mist  came  before 
her  eyes.  This  magnificent  woman,  in  all  the  splendor  of 
dress  and  jewels,  surrounded  by  all  that  was  gorgeous,  was 
Leah,  her  sister.  Could  it  be  possible  that  that  beautiful 
head  had  ever  rested  on  her  breast,  that  night  after  night 


,74  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RTNG, 

she  had  slept  with  that  figure  closely  clasped  in  her  arms  ? 
Was  that  the  face  that  she  had  kissed  in  such  an  agony 
when  they  parted  ?  She  gazed  at  it  long  and  earnestly. 
Leah's  face  had  always  been  to  her  the  fairest  object  on 
which  the  sun  shone ;  now  it  was  as  fair,  but  there  was  a 
change  in  it.  Leah's  face  had  been  restless,  had  always 
worn  a  wistful  look,  as  of  one  whose  desires  were  not 
granted ;  now  it  was  both  calm  and  bright,  while  infinite 
love  shone  in  the  happy  eyes.  That  was  Leah,  her  friend, 
companion  and  sister.  She  thought  of  the  pale  face  when 
her  sister  had  gone  to  Sir  Arthur's  side  ;  she  remembered 
the  voice  trembling  with  emotion  which  had  said,  "  I  asked 
Heaven  to  help  me,  and  it  has  sent  you  to  deliver  me  from 
this  furnace  of  fire."  This  was  the  same  Leah,  but  calm 
and  self-possessed.  She  moved  her  fan  with  a  languid  grace. 
She  looked  more  at  home  and  at  ease  in  the  midst  of  her 
splendor  than  she  had  looked  in  the  little  house  at  Manches- 
ter. Hettie's  heart  yearned  for  her.  She  could  have  stretch- 
ed out  her  arms  to  her  and  cried  out  her  name  ;  but  she  had 
promised  never  again  to  speak  one  word  to  the  sister  whom 
she  loved  so  dearly — never  again.  Something  more  bit- 
ter than  death  had  parted  them.  Hettie  saw  no  more  of 
the  stage  until  Leah's  companion  rose  and  both  disap- 
peared ;  she  kept  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  proud  face  of  her 
sister. 


CHAPTER  XXVL 


From  that  evening  a  very  fever  of  unhappiness  seized 
Hettie.  She  longed  so  intensely  to  see  Leah  again  ;  her 
thoughts  were  always  with  her.  Martin  Ray  began  to 
complain  bitterly  of  his  youngest  child ;  she  was  so  absent^ 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING'RINO.  17^ 

so  inattentive — it  was  the  first  time  he  had  had  to  find  fault 
with  her.  She  was  always  dreaming  instead  of  working, 
thinking  instead  of  doing.  What  had  come  over  her  t  Noth- 
ing but  an  irrepressible  longing  to  see  again  the  sister  whom 
she  so  dearly  loved.  Leah  in  her  magnificence  haunted 
her — Leah  with  the  love-light  shining  in  her  eyes.  Ah  ! 
how  could  she  be  so  happy  when  she  was  parted  forever 
from  them  ?  Did  she  remember  them  in  the  midst  of  her 
wealth  and  luxury  ?  Did  she  ever  think  of  them — she  who 
had  once  loved  them  so  dearly  t 

At  last  the  fever  of  longing  mastered  her.  She  would 
not  break  her  promise — she  would  not  speak  to  her ;  but 
she  must  look  upon  her  face  again.  For  days  she  strug- 
gled hard  to  find  a  few  moments'  leisure  ;  but  Martin 
seemed  to  know  that  she  wanted  a  few  hours  for  herself, 
so  he  kept  her  constantly  employed.  At  last^  it  came,  this 
leisure  hour  for  which  she  had  longed.  Her  father  went 
out,  and  was  not  to  return  until  after  midnight.  Quick  as 
thought  she  dressed  herself.  It  was  just  eight  o'clock,  and 
she  would  probably  be  in  time  to  see  Leah  leave  Harbury 
House  for  whatever  ball  or  party  she  might  be  attending. 

Those  who  lived  in  that  noble  mansion  little  thought 
that  the  fair  young  sister  of  their  beautiful  mistress  stood 
outside  for  many  hours,  with  a  wistful  look  on  her  pale 
face,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  great  entrance-door.  Leah  had 
left  the  house  before  she  reached  it ;  but  Hettie  was  re^ 
solved  to  wait  for  her  return.  It  would  have  touched  a 
heart  of  stone  to  see  the  patient  figure  walking  up  and 
down  with  tireless  footsteps. 

The  stars  began  to  shine ;  silence  fell  over  the  great 
city ;  the  distant  roar  of  carriages  grew  less.  She  could 
hear  the  measured  tread  of  the  policemen ;  the  soft  shadows 
of  night  fell  around  her.  She  knew  she  ought  to  go  home ; 
but  she  could  not  leave  the  spot  until  she  had  seen  Leah's 
face  just  once,  if  only  for  a  moment. 


176  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

At  last  came  the  sound  of  wheels  ;  lights  appeared,  as 
though  by  magic,  in  the  windows  of  the  great  house.  The 
carriage  drew  up  before  the  hall  door  and  the  footman  de- 
scended. Hettie  drew  back  into  the  shade  as  a  flood  of 
light  fell  upon  the  pavement.  She  saw  the  carriage  door 
flung  open,  the  general  descend  first,  and  then  Leah. 
She  saw  the  lovely  face,  more  beautiful  than  ever,  envel- 
oped in  a  mass  of  soft  white  lace.  Leah  made  some  laugh- 
ing remark  as  she  stepped  from  the  carriage  to  the  ground ; 
and  Hettie  saw  that  she  carried  a  bouquet  of  scarlet  flowers 
in  her  hand.  In  another  minute  she  had  passed  through 
the  wide  open  door. 

Then  Hettie  came  forward  and  touched  the  footman  on 
the  arm. 

"  I  will  give  you,"  she  said,  "  a  sovereign  for  the  flowers 
which  that  lady  carried  in  her  hand.  Could  you  get  them 
for  me  if  I  remain  here  ?  " 

The  man  looked  at  her  in  astonishment. 

"  Do  you  understand  ?  '*  she  went  on,  quickly.  "  I  will 
give  you  a  sovereign  for  the  flowers  that  lady  carried  in 
her  hand." 

The  light  from  the  lamp  fell  on  her  sweet,  upraised 
face,  and  the  man  was  more  bewildered. 

"  What  do  you  want  them  for  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Never  mind,"  she  replied — "  I  do  want  them.  Do 
not  waste  time  talking  to  me,  but  get  them  if  you  can." 

*'  Look  here,"  said  the  footman ;  "  that  lady  is  our  young 
mistress,  and  I  would  not  have  any  harm  come  to  her." 

*'  I  mean  no  harm,"  she  returned  quickly.  "  I  simply 
want  them  to  keep  by  me  after  they  are  withered  and  dead, 
for  love  of  her — that  is  all ;  but  I  do  not  wish  any  one  to 
know." 

"  Oh,  if  that  is  what  you  want  them  for,  all  right  I " 
said  the  man.  **  I  will  get  them  for  you.  Stand  there ;  I 
will  not  be  a  minute." 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  177 

Leah  had  laid  her  bouquet  on  one  of  the  hall-tables. 
It  was  composed  of  scarlet  passion-flowers.  The  man 
took  it  up  and  went  back  to  the  door. 

"  Here,"  he  said,  briefly  ;  and  the  next  moment  Hettie 
had  exchanged  her  one  sovereign  for  the  faded-boiiquet. 

How  she  loved  her  treasures  !  How  she  kissed  them  ! 
Leah  had  held  them  in  her  hand,  perhaps  even  touched 
them  with  Her  lips. 

"  It  is  all  that  I  shall  ever  have  to  rerriind  me  of  my 
beautiful  Leah,"  she  said  to  herself.  **  I  will  keep  them 
as  long  as  I  live. 

She  hastened  home,  reaching  there  fortunately  before 
Martin  Ray's  return. 

In  her  own  mind  Hettie  had  decided  to  repeat  her  lit- 
tle experiment.  If  she  could  see  Leah  once  or  twice  in 
each. week,  it  would  amply  repay  her  for  any  trouble. 

But  her  pleasant  anticipations  were  soon  destroyed. 
Martin  Ray  was  not  well  pleased  with  his  visit  to  London. 
He  was  not  treated  with  the  respect  that  he  considered 
due  to  himself ;  besides  which,  his  health  was  rapidly  fail- 
ing. He  did  not  rest  until  he  had  left  the  great  city  be- 
hind him  and  was  once  more  in  his  pleasant  country  cottage. 

Leah  did  not  know  that  her  sister  had  seen  her,  and 
the  little  incident  of  the  flowers  had  never  been  mentioned. 

It  happened  that  an  artist,  travelling  in  the  county 
where  Martin  Ray  and  Hettie  lived,  had  seen  her,  and  had 
made  a  very  perfect  sketch  of  her  face  ;  this  he  had  after- 
ward made  the  subject  of  a  picture  that  he  sent  to  the  Roy- 
al Academy.  It  was  called  "  The  First  Glimpse  of  Morn- 
ing," and  it  was  one  of  the  finest  paintings  exhibited  that 
year.  It  represented  a  young  girl  looking  from  a  case- 
ment window  in  the  early  morning.  The  gray  and  rosy 
dawn  was  in  the  eastern  skies ;  the  trees  and  flowers 
seemed  to  be  waking  from  their  sleep,  and  a  few  birds 
were  on  the  wing.    The  window  was  wreathed  with  lovelv 


jyg  A  BROKE N-  WEDDING-RING, 

roses  ;  and  the  girl's  face,  framed  in  the  green  foliage  and 
crimson  flowers,  was  something  to  wonder  at.  On  it  there 
was  the  reverent  look  of  one  whose  first  thoughts  in  the 
morning  had  been  given  to  heaven — a  face  so  fair  and 
sweet  that  one  felt  the  better  for  gazing  upon  it.  The 
golden  hair  and  the  blue  eyes,  the  delicate  bloom,  the  spiri- 
tual rapt  expression,  made  the  picture  famous. 

Leah  and  Sir  Basil  went  together  to  the  Royal  Academy 
She  was  exceedingly  fond  of  pictures. 

"  Have  you  seen  *  The  First  Glimpse  of  Morning,' 
Leah  ?  "  he  asked  her.  "  If  not,  come  this  way.  There  is 
always  a  crowd  round  it.  There — that  is  my  ideal  face, 
the  loveliest  that  could  be  either  imagined  or  copied.'* 

Leah  looked  at  it  earnestly,  and  in  her  own  heart  she 
thought  how  much  it  was  like  the  face  of  her  sister.  She 
did  not  know  then  that  it  was  perfectly  like  her. 

"  It  is  a  lovely  face,"  she  said  slowly,  wondering  if  Het- 
tie,  whom  it  so  strongly  resembled,  had  grown  up  as  beau- 
tiful as  that. 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  Sir  Basil,  "  that  I  see  in  it  a  great 
likeness  to  you  ?  " 

"  Do  you  ?  "  she  questioned,  her  face  flushing  warmly. 

Then,  as  though  he  had  made  a  discovery  that  sur- 
prised him,  he  said, — 

"  That  face,  Leah,  has  what  yours  in  some  ways  lacks 
— tenderness." 

It  was  perfectly  true ;  yet  the  moment  he  had  said  the 
words  he  repented  of  them,  she  looked  so  terribly  pained. 

*'  I  am  sorry  that  my  face  lacks  anything  in  your  eyes,'* 
she  said — "  above  all,  tenderness." 

"  Do  not  misunderstand  me,  Leah.  I  do  not  say  the 
heart — merely  the  lines  of  the  face." 

"  What  do  the  lines  of  my  face  express  ? "  she  asked. 

"Courage,  pride,  spirit,"  he  replied.  "This  face  is 
lull  of  yielding  and  sweetness." 


4  BROHTEN'  WEDDING-RING.  179 

She  said  no  more.  But  after  they  had  left  the  Aca- 
demy and  reached  home,  Leah  went  up  to  her  lover.  He 
was  bending  over  a  table,  writing.  She  put  her  arm  round 
his  neck,  and  her  beautiful  face  touched  his. 

**  Basil,"  she  whispered,  "  I  am  not  happy.'* 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Leah  ?  "  he  asked. 

With  her  white  hands  she  raised  his  head  until  his  eyes 
looked  into  her  own. 

"  Will  you  promise  not  to  laugh  at  me,"  she  said,  "  if 
I  tell  you  why  ?  " 

"Yes;  I  promise,  Leah," 

"  I  am  not  happy  because  you  have  seen  a  face  that 
ycu  like  better  than  mine," 

"  Nay,  Leah.  I  did  not  say  that.  I  said  that  the  pic- 
tured face  had  what  yours  lacked.  I  did  not  add  that  I 
liked  it  better." 

*•  T>o  you  like  my  face — love  it,  I  mean  ? "  she  whis- 
pered. 

For  answer  he  kissed  the  sweet  lips,  and  whispered 
words  such  as  she  longed  to  hear. 


CHAPTER  XXVIL 


"  Let  us  repeat  the  happy  experiment  of  last  autumn.'* 
said  the  Duchess  of  Rosedene  to  Sir  Arthur.  "  Come 
with  us  to  Dene.  I  do  not  remember  ever  to  have  enjoyed 
anything  more  than  your  visit.  I  will  ask  Sir  Basil  to 
come,  and  the  two  lovers  will  be  happy — that  is,  if  such 
unreasonable  beings  as  lovers  are  ever  happy.  They  seem 
to  me  mere  of  them  discontented." 

The  duchess  had  keen  eyes,  and  she  had  noticed  the 
shadow  that  lay  on  Sir  Basil's  face.    It  was  not  the  shad- 


l8o  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

ow  of  discontent,  or  of  sorrow,  but  of  something  that  words 
could  not  define.  More  than  once  she  had  wondered  if  he 
were  quite  as  happy  as  the  successful  lover  of  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  girls  in  England  should  be.  She  knew  nothing 
of  the  general's  interference,  and  had  no  idea  that  Basil's 
declaration  of  love  had  been  anything  but  spontaneous. 
She  decided  in  her  own  mind  that  they  would  go  to  Dene 
Abbey  again  for  the  autumn,  and  while  there  the  marriage 
might  be  arranged  for  the  following  spring.  That  would 
give  the  lovers  a  few  more  months  of  the  happiest  time  of 
their  life,  and  they  would  learn  to  understand  each  other 
even  better  than  now. 

Sir  Arthur  and  Leah  were  quite  willing ;  they  were 
even  delighted.  Leah  liked  the  Abbey  better  than  any 
other  place  on  earth,  because  she  most  implicitly  believed 
tnat  it  was  there  Si/  Basil  had  learned  to  love  her.  She 
should  again  see  the  marble  Undine  with  its  grace  and 
beauty,  and  the  rippling  waters  that  had  sung  that  night  of 
love. 

August  found  them  at  Dene,  well  and  happy,  without 
the  faintest  knowledge  of  the  doom  that  was  fast  drawing 
nigh.  The  Abbey  was  built  near  Southwood,  a  pretty  town 
on  the  slope  of  a  green  hill,  and  so  close  to  the  sea  that 
when  the  tide  rose  high  some  of  the  little  houses  were  not 
unfrequently  in  danger.  The  little  town  ran  up  the  hill 
after  a  quaint  fashion  of  its  own,  and  the  houses  seemed 
to  climb  with  the  social  position  of  those  who  occupied 
them.  The  fishermen  and  the  boatmen  lived  at 
the  base ;  but  nearer  to  the  summit  stood  the  pretty  villas 
inhabited  by  the  gentry — picturesque  little  houses  half 
buried  in  foliage  and  overlooking  the  boundless,  restless 

sea. 

Partly  on  account  of  its  bracing  air,  and  partly  because 
he  at  tii>es  had  a  few  engagements  in  the  neighboring 
towns,  Martin  Ray  had  for  some  years  made  this  place  his 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  i8i 

home.  His  health  was  bad,  his  spirit  broken,  his  means 
were  small,  his  life  was  spoiled,  saddened,  blighted,  his 
heart  restless  and  embittered.  It  seemed  that  only  hatred 
kept  him  alive — hatred  that  burned  in  his  heart  more  vir- 
ulently than  ever — hatred  of  all  rule,  all  authority.  The 
spirit  and  courage  of  his  youth  had  left  him.  For  four 
years  he  had  lived  in  a  cottage  standing  alone  on  the  slope 
of  the  hill.  When  the  tide  was  in,  and  one  looked  from 
the  upper  windows,  it  seemed  as  though  the  house  almost 
hung  over  the  sea.  It  was  called  Rosewalk,  because  the 
hedges  of  the  lane  in  which  it  stood  were  covered  with 
roses.  Rosewalk  was  one  of  the  beauties  of  Southwood ; 
and  here,  where  the  murmur  of  waves  lulled  him  to  rest  and 
the  song  of  the  birds  woke  him  in  the  early  morning,  Mar- 
tin Ray  made  his  home. 

As  he  sat  watching  the  crimson  sunset  over  the  waves, 
what  visions  came  to  him  !  His  life  had  all  gone  wrong. 
He  had  intended  to  make  for  himself  a  place  in  history, 
and  he  had  failed ;  he  had  mistaken  self-love  and  self-in- 
terest for  patriotism.  Most  of  all,  as  he  sat  hour  after 
hour  watching  the  blue  sea  from  the  rose-wreathed  win- 
dows, he  brooded  over  the  loss  of  his  daughter,  the  child 
that  had  voluntarily  left  his  side  and  clung  to  a  stranger. 
He  never  forgot  that  scene.  The  names  of  his.  daughter 
and  of  the  hated  stranger  had  never  been  breathed ;  yet^ 
when  the  crimson  sun  sunk  into  the  waves  and  the  day 
died  "  in  a  dream  of  amber  skies,"  it  was  of  his  beautiful 
Leah  he  dreamed  and  thought,  the  child  whom  he  had  in- 
tended to  succeed  him. 

A  man  like  Martin  Ray  is  soon  lost  to  memory.  He 
lives  on  popular  agitation  \  and  when  strength  and  health 
fail  him,  and  he  can  no  longer  go  among  the  peo- 
ple with  words  that  "fret  and  stir,"  he  is  soon 
forgotten.  Martin  had  few  friends ;  his  name  was  no 
longer  a  tower  of  strength.     He  learned  in  that  beautiful 


l82  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

home  by  the  sea  some  of  the  most  bitter  lessons.  The 
one  joy  of  his  life  was  his  fair,  sweet  Hettie — the  child  who 
loved  him  with  such  faithful,  tender  love,  who  had  devo- 
ted her  life  to  him  since  she  made  her  choice  five  years 
before.     He  could  not  have  lived  without  her. 

Hettie  made  the  most  of  her  education  ;  she  gave  les- 
sons to  the  children  of  the  well-to-do  people  who  lived  in 
the  neighboring  villas,  she  sung  in  the  fine  old  Norman 
church,  she  made  pretty  little  sketches  of  the  lovely  scenes 
around  them,  and  so  earned  money  enough  to  supply  her 
father  with  all  that  he  needed.  It  was  characteristic  of 
him  that  he  never  noticed  his  daughter's  shabby  dress  or 
her  worn  shoes.  She  gave  him  unreservedly  all  she  had — 
her  love,  her  money,  her  time,  and  her  attention.  The 
only  break  that  ever  came  to  the  monotony  of  her  life  was 
when  her  father,  going  out  on  business,  took  her  with  him 
for  a  few  days.  She  thought  it  an  act  of  kindness  on  his 
part,  while  he  knew  that  without  his  most  loving  and  de- 
voted daughter  he  should  enjoy  very  little  comfort.  She 
had  never  spoken  to  him  of  what  she  had  read  and  seen 
of  Leah.  She  knew  that  he  perused  the  newspapers,  but 
no  word  or  look  from  him  revealed  the  fact  that  he  had 
seen  her  name.  Hettie  was  compelled  to  preserve  silence 
on  the  subject,  but  her  thoughts  ever  reverted  to  Leah. 
So  it  often  happened  that,  when  father  and  daughter  sat 
together  in  the  porch  of  the  pretty  cottage,  watching  the 
sea  in  the  distance,  both  were  thinking  of  Leah.  Martin 
saw  her  still  as  the  beautiful  child  with  the  flash  of  defiance 
on  her  face  with  which  she  had  left  him.  Hettie  dreamed 
of  her  always  as  she  had  seen  her  last,  in  the  brilliancy  of 
her  beauty  and  magnificence.  Neither  of  them  ever  ima- 
gined how  near  she  was  to  them.  Southwood  did  not  pos- 
sess a  newspaper  of  its  own,  and  Dene  Abbey  was  quite 
out  of  their  world.  The  great  green  hill  rose  between  them, 


A  BROR-EN-  WEDDING-RING,  183 

and  separated  them  as  though  they  were  in  different 
hemispheres. 

In  Southwood  no  one  troubled  himself  or  herself  about 
politics.  "  The  Voice  of  the  People"  was  dumb  there  •, 
the  popular  agitator  was  but  littl^  known.  Most  people 
had  an  idea  that  the  quiet,, stern-looking  occupier  of  Rose- 
walk  was  a  writer ;  and  they  knew  that  he  could  not  be 
well  off  because  his  daughter  had  to  support  him  by  her 
exertions. 

This  fair,  gentle  girl,  whose  whole  life  was  spent  in 
•working  for  others,  who  never  had  time  to  think  of  herself, 
was  greatly  beloved.  If  ever  she  had  a  leisure  hour,  it 
was  spent  in  some  deed  of  charity.  She  visited  the  sick  and 
the  sorrowful ;  from  her  slender-store  she  helped  those  who 
were  in  greater  need.  When  means  failed  her,  when  she 
had  neither  food  nor  money  to  bestow,  she  gave  kind 
words  full  of  consolation  and  tender  in  their  wisdom.  She 
worked  very  hard,  from  early  morn  until  dewy  eve.  She 
rose  with  the  sun.  She  had  manuscripts  to  copy  for  her 
father,  lessons  to  arrange,  a  hundred  things  to  do.  If  the 
day  had  been  twice  as  long,  she  could  have  filled  it  with 
pleasant  duties.  She  was  beloved  by  all — by  the  children 
whom  she  taught,  by  the  parents  who  employed  her,  by 
every  person  with  whom  she  had  to  deal.  It  was  not  only 
her  fair,  angelic  beauty,  but  her  sweet  temper  and  win- 
some ways,  that  won  all  hearts. 

These  were  the  days  of  Martin  Ray's  decadence, 
and  he  could  not  perhaps  have  chosen  any  spot  on  earth 
where  he  could  have  been  more  secluded  or  more 
forgotten. 

It  was  a  strange  chance  that  brought  these  two  sisters 
so  near  together,  yet  placed  them  so  far  apart.  The  steep 
green  hill  that  stood  between  Abbey  and  Southwood  was 
typical  of  the  great  barrier  of  caste  which  patted  them. 
Ttere  were  times  when  both  at  the  same  moment  watched 


,84  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

the  same  seas,  the  same  skies,  yet  neither  had  the  least 
notion  of  the  other's  presence  in  that  part  of  the  country. 

The  summer  had  been  hot  and  oppressive.  Martin 
Ray  had  suffered  much,  and  it  was  some  relief  when  the 
cool  breezes  of  autumn  came.  They  heard  casually  that 
Dene  Abbey  was  filled  with  visitors,  but  that  any  of  the 
visitors  concerned  them  never  occurred  to  them.  Father 
and  daughter  would  not  have  sat  so  quietly  watching  the 
heaving  waters  had  they  known  that  Leah  was  so  near 
them. 

The  occupants  of  Dene  Abbey  seldom  attended  the 
pretty  old  Norman  church  at  Southwood,  where  Hettie 
sang  so  sweetly  and  so  clearly.  There  was  a  church 
nearer  to  them  called  St.  Barbauld's,  which  stood  in  the 
centre  of  a  little  village  near  the  sea.  But  Sir  Basil  liked 
Southwood  best.  He  admired  the  quaint  old  Norman 
church,  with  its  square  tower  and  fine  arches.  Through 
the  windows  one  could  see  the  tall  elm-trees ;  and  Sir  Basil 
said  that  more  devotional  thoughts  came  to  him  there  than 
in  any  other  place.  So,  one  Sunday  morning,  when  the 
whole  party  went  over  to  St.  Barbauld's  Sir  Basil  went 
through  the  woods,  climbed  the  steep  hill,  and  descended 
the  beautiful,  grassy  slopes,  until  he  reached  the  old  Nor- 
man church  where  his  fate  awaited  him.  He  never  forgot 
one  detail — the  green  churchyard,  the  row  of  elm-trees 
that  seemed  to  shut  it  in  from  the  world,  the  old-fashioned 
sundial,  near  which  tall  sunflowers  grew,  the  golden  haze 
that  filled  the  air  outside,  and  the  deep  shadows  within. 

The  rector  read  the  prayers,  and  said  a  few  words  to 
the  people — simple,  honest  words  that  went  home  to  every 
heart  and  left  an  impression  there.  When  the  clear,  ear- 
nest voice  ceased,  there  was  a  slight  stir  in  the  organ-loft, 
and  then  a  dead  silence. 

What  broke  it  ?  A  clear,  sweet  voice,  which  Sir  Basil 
never  forgot,  singing  a  solo  in  a  grand  old  anthem,  every 


A  BROKEN-  WEDDING-RING.  jgg 

word  of  which  was  distinct  and  audible — beautiful  words, 
well  matched  with  the  fine  music  and  the  angelic  voice. 
He  listened  in  wonder ;  he  had  heard  some  of  the  finest 
singers  in  Italy  and  some  of  the  grandest  music  in  the 
world,  but  nothing  like  this — clear,  sweet,  and  pathetic, 
at  times  sounding  as  though  it  were  full  of  tears,  and  again 
jubilant  and  ringing.  He  was  not  sentimental,  and  flat- 
tered himself  that  he  took  a  practical  view  of  most  things ; 
but  as  he  listened  he  thought  to  himself : — 

"  That  must  be  how  the  angels  sing." 

He  looked  up  into  the  organ-loft  from  which  the  sound 
came,  and  there  he  saw  a  picture  that  was  photographed 
on  his  brain  for  evermore.  A  tall,  slender  girl  stood  in 
the  midst  of  the  choir,  in  a  dress  of  pale  blue — a  girl  with 
a  face  so  fair,  so  rapt,  so  seraphic,  that  it  awed  and  bewil- 
dered him.  She  was  singing — not  to  the  people,  who  lis- 
tened with  bated  breath — not  to  him,  whose  eyes  nevef 
moved  from  her  face.  Her  head  was  slightly  upraised, 
her  face  upturned.  Her  thoughts  had  pierced  the  old 
groined  roof  and  the  blue  ether  that  lay  beyond,  and  had 
gone  to  the  land  where  angels  dwell.  Her  golden  hair 
made  a  halo  round  her  head,  and  he  could  have  thought 
that  an  angel  had  descended  from  "  the  realms  of  light," 
Then,  as  the  perfect  spiritual  loveliness  of  the  face  dawned 
upon  him,  he  found  that  it  was  strangely  familiar  to  him. 
Somewhere  else  he  had  seen  those  lustrous  blue  eyes  and 
that  sweet  pleading  mouth — the  same  face,  but  with  a 
different  expression.  Then  it  dawned  upon  him  slowly 
that  this  girl  had  been  the  original  of  the  picture.  "  The 
First  Glimpse  of  Morning,"  and  he  remembered  what  he 
had  said  to  Leah,  ^"  That  face  has  what  yours  lacks — ten- 
derness." "  I  am  destined  to  know  her  through  the  arts," 
he  said  to  himself.  "  She  dawned  upon  me  in  painting,  I 
see  her  etherealized  by  music — yet  what  is  she  to  me  ? " 

She  was  nothing  to  him,  yet  during  the  whole  of  th^ 


l86  A  BROKEN  WEDDINC'RING. 

day  that  rapt  spiritual  face  seemed  always  before  him. 
He  would  have  asked  who  she  was,  but  he  knew  no  one 
there,  and  when  the  anthem  was  finished  she  vanished.  He 
lingered  in  the  old  churchyard,  where  the  tall  elm-trees 
cast  graceful  shadows  on  the  grass,  but  he  caught  no 
gliirpse  of  her.  He  went  home  to  Dene  Abbey  with  the 
clear,  rich  voice  ringing  in  his  ears.  There  was  a  little  rivulet 
that  ran  through  the  Dene  woods ;  he  bent  over  it,  and, 
lo,  the  sweet  face  smiled  at  him  from  its  clear  depths  !  He 
laughed  at  himself.  No  woman's  face  had  ever  haunted 
him  before.  With  all  its  brilliant  beauty,  even  Leah's  had 
not  haunted  him  as  this  one  did. 

During  luncheon  he  spoke  of  the  music  he  had  heard 
at  Southwood,  of  the  clear,  sweet  soprano  voice,  so  rich 
and  rare  in  quality. 

The  duke  said  that  he  had  heard  a  young  singer  spoken 
of  there  as  having  a  very  beautiful  voice.  One  or  two  of 
the  visitors  said  they  would  like  to  go  to  Southwood  Church. 
The  Duke  of  Rosedene  declared  half  laughingly  that  there 
was  a  feud  between  himself  and  the  rector  of  Southwood 
and  that  until  it  was  healed  neither  himself  nor  the  duchess 
would  leave  St.  Barbauld's. 

Sir  Basil  decided  that  every  Sunday  while  he  remained 
at  Dene  he  would  go  and  hear  the  beautiful  voice  that  had 
charmed  him  so  greatly.  "  If  any  one  could  fall  in  love 
with  a  voice,  I  should  think  that  I  have  done  so,'*  he  said 
to  himself.  Some  strange  instinct  that  he  did  not  under- 
stand at  the  time  kept  him  silent  to  Leah  concerning  both 
the  face  and  the  voice  of  the  fair  young  singer.  He  would 
have  told  her  that  in  her  he  recognized  the  original  of  the 
painting  they  had  admired,  but  that  he  remembered  so 
well  that  she  had  been  hurt  by  his  comparison  of  her  own 
and  the  pictured  face,  and  he  did  not  wish  to  remind  her 
of  the  circumstance. 

**  I  wonder,"  thought  Sir  Basil,  later  on  in  the  day,  "  if 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  i8^ 

she  stands  there  every  Sunday  in  that  pale  blue  dress,  the 
light  on  her  golden  hair  ?  " 

He  was  sitting  by  one  of  the  open  windows  that  even- 
ing, haunted  still  by  the  fair  face  he  had  seen,  when  Leah 
came  suddenly  behind  hira  and  laid  one  hand  caressingly 
upon  his  dark  head. 

"  Basil,"  she  said,  "  you  have  been  very  distrait  to-day. 
Do  you  know  that  you  have  not  spoken  fifty  words  to  me. 
I  have  been  patient  to  bear  it  so  long,  but  now  you  must 
.make  amends  for  it," 

Even  as  he  looked  up  into  her  face  the  other  fairer  one 
seemed  to  come  between  them. 

*'  How  shall  I  make  amends,"  he  asked,  with  a  smile. 

"  You  must  find  that  out  for  yourself, "  she  replied. 

He  drew  her  to  the  seat  by  his  side  and  whispered 
some  tender  words  to  her.  She  loved  him  so  entirely 
that  very  little  satisfied  her.  One  more  exacting  might 
have  thought  that  he  was  not  a  very  demonstrative  lover, 
but  Leah  was  too  much  blinded  by  her  own  passion  to 
note  any  defect  in  him.  That  hour  spent  with  him  at  the 
open  window  in  the  autumn  gloaming  was  one  of  the  hap» 
piest  she  ever  knew. 

That  same  night,  while  her  maid  stood  brushing  out 
the  long  dark  rippling  waves  of  hair,  Leah,  with  a  happy 
smile,  .was  looking  at  her  own  face  in  the  glass.  She 
said  to  herself — and  the  words  came  home  to  her  after- 
wards :  **If  I  never  have  any  more  happiness  while  I  live, 
I  have  had  enough  for  a  lifetime."  She  loved  hira  so 
well. 

The  week  that  passed  before  Sunday  came  again  was 
a  long  one  to  Sir  Basil.  He  had  not  the  least  intention 
of  ever  being,  even  in  thought,  untrue  to  Leah.  If  he  had 
dreamed  that  there  was  any  danger  in  seeing  the  beauti- 
ful singer  again,  he  would  have  avoided  her.  He  was  en- 
gaged to  marry  Leah  Hatton — how  could  he  know  that  he 


jSS  a  BROKEN'  WEDDING-RING. 

was  in  danger  *  In  Italy  he  had  loved  to  listen  to  such 
voices;  here  in  England  he  never  missed  good  music 
when  he  had  a  chance  of  hearing  it.  What  harm  could 
there  be  in  going  to  Southwood  Church  to  hear  a  grand 
old  anthem  beautifully  sung  ?  He  did  not  speak  to  Leah 
about  it.  He  had  one  definite  motive  for  silence,  and  he 
had  twenty  reasons  that  were  not  quite  definite. 

Sunday  came — a  beautiful  day,  bright,  warm,  full  of 
fragrance,  the  sky  serenely  blue,  the  green  earth  all  smil- 
ing and  fair.  Sir  Basil  was  more  silent  than  usual  at  the 
breakfast-table,  and  the  girl  who  loved  him,  looking  at  his 
thoughtful  face,  wondered  if  he  were  thinking  of  her  or  of 
the  future  before  them. 

On  that  bright  Sunday  morning  no  warning  came  to 
Sir  Basil  that  he  had  better  not  see  the  young  singer 
again.  He  went.  She  sang  more  sweetly  than  ever,  and 
looked  to  his  enchanted  eyes  fairer  than  before.  With 
her  dress  of  pale  blue,  her  fair,  flower-like  face  and  gold- 
en hair,  she  reminded  him  of  the  beautiful  figures  he  had 
seen  in  the  churches  in  Italy.  He  must  find  out  who  she 
was  ;  he  would  much  like  to  know  what  name  went  with 
that  face.  He  would  like  to  speak  to  her ;  it  would  be 
pleasant  to  know  if  her  voice  sounded  as  sweet  in  speak- 
ing as  in  singing. 

This  time,  when  the  people  went  out  of  church  he  con- 
trived to  be  among  the  first,  and  then  he  saw  the  blue 
dress  trailing  over  the  grass ;  he  noticed  that  every  move- 
ment and  action  of  the  girl  was  as  full  of  grace  as  her 
singing  was  full  of  music.  The  sun  was  shining  on  the 
tall  elm-trees  and  the  green  graves  where  the  dead  slept 
so  well ;  on  the  old  Norman  church,  on  the  groups  of 
worshippers  ;  and  something  stole  into  his  heart  that  had 
never  been  there  before — a  new  delicious  life.  It  thrilled 
in  his  veins  and  beat  at  his  heart — a  keen  pleasure  so 
great  as  to  be  almost  pain.   He  thought  the  tranquillity  of 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  189 

the  day  had  touched  him  ;  he  thought  the  beautiful  music 
had  affected  him.  Something  had  with  sudden  sweet 
swiftness  changed  the  fair  face  of  Nature  for  him. 

He  watched  the  girl  who  had  sung  of  the  '*  bright  sera- 
phim. '*  She  had  stopped  first  of  all  to  speak  to  a  group 
of  fair-haired  children  ;  then  he  saw  that  the  old  men  and 
women  all  tried  to  have  a  few  words  with  her  ;  after  that 
she  disappeared,  and  he  could  not  see  in  which  direction 
she  had  gone. 

He  found  the  old  sexton.  Sir  Basil  discovered  in  a 
moment  the  way  to  his  heart ;  it  was  sugg^ted  by  the 
almost  pathetic  manner  in  which  the  man  said  that  it  was 
a  dry  day.  He  was  so  completely  overwhelmed  when  Sir 
Basil  dropped  something  into  his  hand  with  which  to 
make  the  day  more  comfortable  that  he  would  have 
answered  any  number  of  questions. 

"  Who  was  the  lady  that  sung  ? " 

She  was  Miss  Ray — Miss  Hettie  Ray,  daughter  of  the 
old  man  who  lived  at  Rosewalk. 

Where  was  Rosewalk  t 

"  It  is  a  cottage  built  on  the  slope  of  the  hill  round 
there  by  Southwood  " — a  vague  direction,  but  Sir  Basil 
remembered  every  word  of  it. 

W^ho  was  the  old  man  ? 

Ah,  that  the  sexton  did  not  know  !  All  that  he  could 
tell  was  that  he  had  heard  that  he  was  a  bit  of  a  writer  in 
the  political  line,  that  he  was  poor,  and  that  his  daughter 
worked  very  hard.  He  knew  little  of  him,  because  he 
kept  away  from  every  one  and  shut  himself  up  in  his  little 
cottage. 

"Rather  a  curious  history,"  thought  the  young  baronet. 
*'  Such  a  father  and  such  a  daughter  !  He  cannot  possi- 
bly be  a  political  writer  of  any  note,  or  I  should  have 
heard  some  one  speak  of  him.  Before  long  I  will  see  for 
myself  what  Rosewalk  is  like.  " 


190  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-Kim. 


CHAPTER  XXVIIL 

It  was  a  fortunate  thing  for  many  reasons  that  the 
Duke  of  Rosedene  was  alone  when  Sir  Basil  met  him,  for 
he  led  up  gradually  to  the  subject  which  occupied  his 
thoughts.  Did  the  duke  come  more  than  once  a  year  to 
Dene  ?  Did  he  know  the  people  at  Southwood  ?  Was  it 
true  that  a  political  writer  lived  at  Southwood  ? 

The  duke  shrugged  his  shoulders  good-naturedly. 

"  I  really  don't  know,"  he  said.     "  Who  is  he  ? " 

Sir  Basil  did  not  know  ;  he  was  asking  for  information. 
Some  one  had  told  him  that  a  political  writer  lived  at 
Southwood. 

"  Politics  have  not  been  much  in  my  line  lately,"  said 
the  duke — "  not  for  some  years.  I  am  glad  they  are  in 
yours.  I  like  to  see  the  young  men  of  the  country  com- 
ing forward  ;  it  is  a  healthy  sign.  What  about  this  man  ? 
What  is  his  name  ?  " 

*'  Ray,"  answered  Sir  Basil. 

*'  Ray,"  repeated  the  duke  slowly.  '  Ah,  yes  !  I  re- 
member the  name  very  well,  but  I  know  nothing  of  the 
man.  Ray  ?  He  was  a  great  Radical ;  I  believe  they 
called  him  *  the  Voice  of  the  People '  years  ago.  I  have 
heard  nothing  of  him  for  a  long  time ;  nor  do  I  take  the 
least  interest  in  him." 

*'  I  have  been  so  long  away  from  England  that  I  am 
often  ashamed  to  find  how  ignorant  I  am  about  men  and 
things. " 

"  My  dear  Sir  Basil,  you  have  no  reason  whatever  to 
regret  your  ignorance  with  regard  to  Ray.  He  was  one 
of  those  who  lived  on  the  people  and  misled  them — incited 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  ic,j 

them  to  riot  and  rebellion.  He  never  did  them  any 
good  ;  and  if  my  memory  serves  me  rightly,  he  was  once 
imprisoned  for  treason." 

"  Rather  a  stormy  career,"  said  Sir  Basil. 

"  He  wrote  one  or  two  good  things  in  their  way,"  said 
the  duke,  "  but  based  on  a  wrong  principle.  The  best 
pamphlet  was  called  *  An  Appeal  to  the  People,  by  One 
who  Serves  Them.'  It  made  some  little  sensation  at  the 
toe.  As  you  seem  interested,  I  will  make  some  inquiries 
And  tell  you  the  result." 

Sir  Basil  dreamed  of  Hettie  all  that  night — a  fact 
which  he  explained  to  himself  by  saying  that  he  thought  a 
good  deal  about  her  singing.  When  he  woke  from  his 
6leep,  he  was  murmuring  to  himself  the  name  of  "Hettie 
Ray."  There  was  a  strange  charm  in  it  for  him.  He 
iiked  to  think  of  her  as  a  politician's  daughter,  even 
though  the  father  had  been  a  notorious  Radical. 

"  I  have  made  inquiries  about  this  Ray,  Sir  Basil,"  the 
duke  said  a  few  days  later.  **  I  find  that  he  is  an  ill-con- 
aitioned,  miserable  kind  of  man." 

•*  I  expected  so,"  returned  Sir  Basil. 

••  He  is  a  dangerous  dog  with  his  teeth  drawn.  He  is 
oTq  and  infirm ;  he  will  never  do  any  more  mischief  in 
this  world.  I  hear  that  through  ill-health  and  failure  in 
means  ne  has  come  to  Southwood  to  live  the  remainder  of 
his  davs  in  peace." 

"  An  aged  lion,"  said  Sir  Basil. 

**  Exactly  so.  They  tell  me  that  he  has  a  good  and 
beautiful  aaughter  who  keeps  him  by  her  own  exertions  ; 
but  no  one  seems  to  think  much  of  him  or  take  any  no- 
tice of  him.  If  it  is  the  same  thing  to  you,"  added  the 
duke,  "  I  would  rather  that  you  did  not  mention  to  any 
one  the  fact  that  Ray,  the  once  famous  *  Voice  of  the 
People/  lives  near  here." 

"  Why,*'  asked  Sir  Basil,  more  suddenly  than  politely. 


1^2  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

Bi:t  the  duke  did  not  seem  at  all  disturbed  by  the 
question. 

"  The  man  is,  and  always  has  been,  mad  with  morbid 
vanity  and  a  desire  for  publicity.  I  should  not  like  my 
visitors  to  know  anything  about  him.  He  would  get  up 
some  kind  of  sensation — a  paper  war  of  some  kind,  if  he 
had  the  chance.  I  am  glad  the  hill  shuts  us  off  from 
Southwood.  I  have  a  great  dislike  for  men  of  that 
stamp." 

It  was  in  consequence  of  this  that  Sir  Basil  never 
mentioned  the  name  of  Ray  in  the  presence  of  the  guests 
at  Dene  Abbey.  He  would  not  do  anything  against  the 
duke's  wish ;  nor  had  he  the  least  desire  to  draw  any  at- 
tention to  this  man.  He  never  spoke  of  the  music  at 
Southwood  Church  again ;  but  the  less  he  said  the  more 
deeply  he  thought  on  the  subject.  Upon  one  thing  he 
was  quite  determined — ^he  would  go  and  see  Martin  Ray. 
He  was  in  some  meastire,  a  public  man,  and  he  would  not 
resent  the  visit.  He  sucoseded  in  convincing  himself 
that  his  intended  visit  had  nothing  whatever  to  do  with 
Hettie.  He  wanted  to  see  a  ii^an  who  had  been  a  popu- 
lar celebrity.  At  the  ss.me  tiitie  he  determined  to  be 
thoroughly  prudent.  He  would  not  in  any  way  com- 
promise the  duke.  He  need  not  announce  his  name  or  say 
where  he  was  staying.  He  was  6^mply  about  to  call  upon  a 
man  who  had  once  been  famous  but  who  was  now  forgot- 
ten ;  and  Sir  Basil  persuaded  himself  it  was  a  kindly  thing 
to  do,  to  pay  respect  to  fallen  greatness. 

So  one  autumn  day  Sir  Basil  strolled  over  to  Rosewalk. 
He  told  Leah  that  he  was  going  for  a  long  ramble ;  but  he 
did  not  ask  her  to  accompany  him.  There  was  in  his 
mind  no  direct  thought  that  he  was  going  sor?ewhere  clan- 
destinely. He  climbed  the  steep  hill  once  more,  and 
there  before  him  lay  the  pretty  town  of  Southwood.  He 
saw  how  it  seemed  to  wind  up  the  hill,  beginning  at  Uie 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  ^^^ 

foot  with  humble  cottages,  and  ending  with  handsome 
vilias  as  it  approached  the  summit. 

He  saw  near  the  brow  of  the  hill  a  pretty  green  lane 
with  tall  hedgerows,  and  he  decided  that  that  must  be 
Rosewalk.  In  the  midst  stood  a  small  cottage,  half  buried 
in  foliage.  He  did  not  know  why  his  heart  beat  fast  when 
he  saw  it.  A  sudden  fit  of  timidity  came  over  him. 
What  if  he  should  see  the  beautiful  singer,  or  if,  from  one 
of  those  flower-wreathed  windows,  he  should  hear  her 
voice  ? 

After  walking  so  far  his  courage  had  failed  him  :  he 
passed  through  the  lane,  and  did  not  even  look  at  the 
cottage  he  had  come  to  see. 

He  felt  ashamed  of  himself,  and  went  back  again — 
the  lane  was  a  long  one.  When  he  returned  he  found 
that  an  elderly  man  was  standing  watching  the  passage  of 
a  ship  at  sea.  The  scene  was  so  beautiful  that  he  was 
charmed  with  it — the  blue  waters,  the  white-sailed  ship, 
the  grassy  hill,  the  peaceful  green  lane,  the  picturesque, 
flower-hidden  cottage.  The  man  stood  looking  over  a  low 
ivy-hidden  wall.  Some  instinct  told  him  that  this  was 
Martin  Ray. 

'"  This  is  a  lovely  scene,  sir,"  Sir  Basil  remarked,  as 
he  paused  in  front  of  the  old  man. 

**  It  is  well  enough,"  he  said. 

And  then  Sir  Basil  was  slightly  disconcerted.  He 
hardly  knew  what  next  to  say.  He  stood  and  looked,  first 
at  the  blue  rippling  waters,  and  then  at  the  stern,  worn, 
haggard  man.     It  was  better  perhaps  to  be  frank. 

**  I  am  looking,"  he  said  quietly,  "  for  the  house  of 
Mr.  Martin  Ray.     Can  you  tell  me  if  this  be  it  ?  " 

*'  I  am  Martin  Ray,"  answered  the  other,  briefly. 

And  again  Sir  Basil  was  nonplussed. 

The  man  raised  himself  from  his  leaning  attitude,  and 
looked  at  the  handsome,  dark  face  before  him. 


,Q4  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

"  You  wanted  to  see  my  house  and  me — why  ? "  he 
asked. 

And  then  Sir  Basil's  sense  of  good  breeding  came  to 
his  aid. 

"  My  reason  is  very  simple,"  replied  Sir  Basil,  raising 
his  hat.  "  I  heard  that  you  were  living  here,  and  I  wished 
to  see  one  who  rightly  or  wrongly,  has  been  a  leader 
among  the  people." 

"  Are  you  of  my  way  of  thinking  ? "  asked  Martin  al> 
ruptly. 

"No,  I  am  not,"  replied  Sir  Basil.  "You  carry  to 
excess  that  which  I  believe  in  but  little.  I  hold  a  middle 
path  between  you  and  those  whom  you  would  call  your 
enemies. " 

"  A  middle  path, "  repeated  Martin.  "  Ah,  then  you 
will  not  interest  me  !  " 

"  I  am  not  sure  that  I  wish  to  do  so,  "  said  Sir  Basil. 
**  It  was  not  with  a  view  of  interesting  you  that  I  desired 
to  see  you. " 

"  I  did  not  intend  to  be  rude,  "  returned  Martin  Ray. 
**  I  mean  this — my  life  has  been  a  fierce  fight.  I  know 
but  two  extremes.  You  must  forgive  me — I  hate  al) 
mediocrity. " 

"  You  are  like  an  old  soldier  who  smells  gunpowder,  " 
said  Sir  Basil,  good-temperedly.  "  You  would  enjoy  a 
warm  political  argument  with  me ;  but  it  is  not  possible. 
I  am  only  just  beginning  to  understand  matters.  I  could 
not  hold  my  own  with  you  " — which  words  delighted  Mar- 
tin. "  I  have  not  had  the  advantage  of  an  English  educa- 
tion ;  my  youth  has  been  spent  in  Italy,  and  politics  have 
formed  no  part  of  my  training.  " 

"  A  sad  pity !  An  English  lad  should  be  reared  in 
England, "  remarked  Martin,  gruffly. 

"There  is  an  exception  to  every  rule,  and  every  crea. 
ture  living  has  to  bow  to  circumstances, "  said  Sir  Basil, 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RIN-G.  195 

"  No  man  can  be  so  arrogant  as  to  stand  up  and  say,  *  All 
other  men  should  do  this  or  that.' " 

"  Perhaps  not,"  admitted  Martin,  more  humbly. 

'*  In  a  few  months  or  a  few  years, "  continued  Sit 
Basil,  "  I  shall  be  better  informed  about  politics  than  I 
am  now.  I  intend  to  read,  to  study,  to  think  ;  and  then, 
when  I  have  mastered  both  sides  of  the  various  questions 
I  shall  be  able  to  form  clear  and  decided  views  of  my 
own. " 

**  That  is  right,  '■  said  Martin, 

**  At  present  I  am  inclined  to  trust  in  what  I  should 
call  the  happy  medium.  All  my  faith  does  not  lie  with 
those  who  believe  in  the  divine  right  of  kings,  nor  yet 
v/ith  those  who  would  make  a  *  king's  crown  fair  target 
for  good  shot. '  I  have  read  some  of  your  writings.  You 
go  too  far ;  they  bristle  with  sedition. " 

*'  You  are  plain  spoken, "  said  Martin  Ray. 

**I  believe  in  truth  and  plain  words,*'  replied  Sir  Basil, 
"  I  have  heard  that  you  are  out  of  health,  and  that  of  late 
yen  have  not  been  fortunate.     I  hope  it  is  not  so.  " 

*'  It  is  quite  true,  "  was  the  answer.  Martin  Ray  was 
beginning  to  like  this  handsome,  frank  young  man  who 
was  evidently  interested  in  him.  If  any  one  had  whis- 
pered to  him  that  this  was  caused  by  the  fact  that  he  was 
Hettie's  father,  he  would  have  scouted  the  idea.  "  My 
health  and  strength  have  failed  me, "  he  said ;  and  there 
was  a  certain  dignity  in  his  pathos.  "  I  am  a  dead  lion  ; 
and  every  one  knows  that  a  live  dog  is  better.  Time  was 
when  my  *  roar '  struck  the  ears  of  hundreds — now  it  is  not 
heard.  I  have  outlived  myself.  I  had  great  hopes  once, 
great  ambitions.  I  must  have  been  mad  when  I  dreamed 
that  I  should  be  the  elected  leader  of  a  free  people.  " 

"  AH  Englishmen  are  free,  "  said  Sir  Basil. 

*'Ah, '*  he  cried,  with  sudden  energy  and  fire, 
**but   they   have   not   the   same  freedom   that   I   would 


ige "  A  0ROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

have  given  them!  I  have  been  mad  all  my  life, 
I  believe  ;  but  I  have  had  dreams  tof  a  grand  nation, 
a  grand  people,  free  from  taxes  and  natiorial  debt — free, 
and  led  by  me.  There  have  been  times  when  I  have 
seemed  even  to  myself,  by  the  splendor  of  my  ov/n  dreams, 
more  than  human,  more  than  man.  Now  my  dreams,  my 
pride,  and  my  very  life  almost  have  come  to  an  end.  " 

**  I  cannot  quite  see  the  sense  of  your  argument, "  said 
Sir  Basil.  "  If  a  people  are  to  be  led,  what  does  it  mat- 
ter wliether  they  are  led  by  a  high-souled,  generous  king, 
by  a  noble  woman  like  our  queen,  or  by  a  man  like  your- 
self, whose  rule  would  of  necessity  be  inferior,  because 
your  education  and  learning  must  be  inferior  ?  " 

"I  will  answer  that  question  another  time,"  replied 
Martin  Ray,  with  a  nod  of  dismissal.  "  Come  and  see  me 
again.  You  have  stirred  an  old  pain  in  my  heart.  Good- 
by." 

And  without  another  word  Sir  Basil  retraced  his  steps 
to  Dene  Abbey,  thinking  the  whole  way  of  the  man  he 
had  just  left. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 


On  that  same  evening  a  large  party  was  assembled  at 
Dene  Abbey,  and  Sir  Basil  made  a  great  effort  to  give 
his  mind  to  the  present.  He  tried  to  forget  the  beautiful 
voice  he  had  heard  and  the  sweet  face  he  had  seen  in  the 
old  gray  church :  he  tried  to  forget  the  stern,  haggard  man 
looking  with  sad,  wearied  eyes  over  the  waste  of  waters. 
He  did  his  best ;  but  the  eyes  of  love  are  keen,  and  Leah 
saw  that  he  was  quiet  and  talked  less  than  usual. 

How  she  loved  him  !    How  her  whole  heart  shone  in 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  \f^i 

her  face  as  she  went  up  to  him  !  How  the  loveUight  glis- 
tened in  her  dark  eyes  and  the  sweet,  sensitive  lips  trembled 
with  their  love-sighs  !  She  had  a  pretty  caressing  fashion 
of  going  behind  him  and  whispering  loving  words  that  no 
one  else  could  hear. 

*'  Basil,  my  darling,"  she  said  tremulously,  "  you  have 
tired  yourself  with  that  long  ramble.  I  felt  almost  jealous 
because  you  did  not  ask  me  to  go  with  you. " 

He  wondered,  in  a  dull,  vague  kind  of  fashion,  why  his 
heart  did  not  beat  more  quickly  for  the  love  this  queenly, 
beautiful  woman  lavished  on  him,  for  the  words  she  whis- 
pered in  his  ear,  for  the  warm,  caressing  touch  of  her 
white  hands.  Why  was  it  ?  He  forced  himself  to  talk  to 
her,  and  he  promised  to  row  her  as  far  as  St.  Margaret's 
Bay  on  the  morrow. 

"  I  will  sing  for  you,  "  she  said.  "  A  new  song  came 
for  me  this  morning.  It  is  dedicated  to  me;  I  have  been 
asked  twenty  times  to-day  to  sing  it ;  but  I  resolved  that 
you  should  be  the  first  to  hear  it.  It  is  called  *  The  Tryst ;' 
the  words  and  the  accompaniment  are  alike  beautiful. 
Listen,  and  tell  me  what  you  think. " 

"  I  will  come  with  you,  "  he  said.  He  was  sitting  at 
the  far  end  of  the  room,  away  from  the  piano. 

*'  No  ;  I  want  you  to  stay  here  and  listen  critically, " 
she  replied,  laughingly. 

'He  did  listen  critically,  wondering  what  there  was  in 
the  rich  contralto  that  reminded  him  so  forcibly  of  the 
clear,  ringing  soprano  he  had  heard  in  the  old  gray  church. 
He  heard  each  word  distinctly. 

*'  She  glided  o'er  the  meadow  grass. 

And  through  the  young  green  com  s 
Sweet  as  the  summer  blooms  she  was^ 

And  fresh  as  summer  mom. 
We  laughed  and  loved  beside  the  bro6k« 

That  sang  its  gay  refrain  ; 
And  where  we  met  that  day,  my  kjvo, 

W«  swore  to  maet  again. 


2^3  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

"  But  ere  the  grass  was  dry  and  brown. 

Amid  the  ripening  corn. 
Up  to  the  churchyard  on  the  dowa 

A  maiden's  corpse  was  borne. 
I  weep  alone  beside  the  brook. 

All  swoU'n  with  autumn  rain ; 
For  where  we  met  that  day,  my  love^ 

We  shall  not  meet  again.'* 

There  was  profound  silence  in  the  room  when  the 
music  ceased.  No  one  spoke  to  Leah  as  she  went  back 
to  her  place  by  her  lover's  side. 

"  Do  you  like  it  ?  "  she  asked. 

*'  How  could  I  help  it  ? "  he  cried.  "  But  there  is  some- 
thing strangely  familiar  to  me  in  your  voice.  I  had  a  pe- 
culiar, weird  sensation,  as  thbugh  I  had  heard  it  in  another 
•world." 

"  That  is  impossible,"  she  replied,  laughingly.  "  If  I 
had  met  you  in  another  world,  I  should  have  remembered 
it.  I  was  jealous  and  pained  for  whole  days  after  you 
said  that  you  thought  another  face  fairer — no,  sweeter 
than  mine.  If  my  voice  reminds* you  of  another's  I  will 
never  sing  one  note  to  you  again."  As  she  uttered  the 
words  her  face  flushed,  and  the  sensitive  lips  trembled. 

He  was  flattered  by  her  jealousy  ;  but  it  did  not  pain 
him  as  it  would  have  done  had  he  loved  her. 

"  Basil,"  she  said,  gently, "  do  you  think  I  am  very  jeal- 
ous ? " 

"  I  do  not  know,  Leah.  I  hope  not.  I  should  imagine 
that  to  be  jealous  must  cause  acute  pain." 

She  opened  her  beautiful  dark  eyes  more  widely  than 
ever. 

"  Do  you  not  know  what  it  is  like,"  she  said — "  this  pain 
of  jealousy." 

"  No,"  he  replied.  "  I  do  not  remember  that  I  was 
ever  jealous  in  my  whole  life.  Ah,  yes,  once  I  remember  ! 
When  my  sister's  lover  came,  and  I  knew  in  my  boyish 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  199 

heart  that  he  was  to  take  her  from  me — I  was  jealous 
then.  I  did  not  eat  or  sleep  ;  I  was  inconsolable  •,  and  I 
remember  well  that  the  pain  was  real — a  hot  bitter  sense 
of  injury  and  wrong.  I  remember,  too,  that  for  a  time  I 
hated  the  man  who  was  going  to  marry  her,  I  have  never 
been  jealous  since." 

"  Never  ?  "  asked  Leah. 

*'  No,"  Sir  Basil  laughed  ;  "  I  may  safely  say  never." 

*'  Do  you  think  that  jealousy  is  a  sign  of  love  ?  "  asked 
Leah,  wistfully. 

"  I  cannot  tell  ;  I  have  never  thought  about  it."  he  re- 
plied.    "  I  should  almost  say  not." 

"  And  I  think  the  two  must  go  together,"  said  Leah.  "  I 
am  jealous.  I  think  if  you,  Basil,  were  to  love  or  praise 
any  one  very  much  I  should  be  miserable.  I  am  sure  that 
if  you  paid  much  attention  to  any  one  else,  or  said  that 
any  girl  was  very  pretty,  or  looked  at  any  one  as  though 
you  admired  her  very  much,  I  should  be  jealous." 

"  I  do  not  see  why,"  he  said  gently. 

**  Ah,  then,  you  do  not  understand,  Basil,"  she  rejoined. 
*'  I  cannot  help  it.  I  do  not  wish  to  be  jealous  ;  I  do  not 
make  myself  jealous  ;  it  comes  naturally.  Yesterday, 
when  you  were  talking  to  Lady  Grantleigh,  she  was  laugh- 
ing and  looking  up  at  you  ;  and  your  eyes  were  so  bright, 
Basil,  I  felt  a  pain  as  of  a  wound  inflicted  by  a  sharp 
knife.  I  could  not  help  it  ;  it  came  and  went.  Basil," 
she  whispered,  bending  her  beautiful  head,  "have  you 
ever  been  jealous  of  me  ? " 

*'  No,"  he  replied,  frankly,  "  never,  Leah." 

A  shade  of  disappointment  came  over  her  brilliant  face. 

"  Never,  Basil  ?  Ah,  then,  I  am  sure  you  do  not  love  me 
as  much  as  I  love  you.     Are  you  quite  sure  ? " 

*'  I  am  sure,"  laughed  Sir  Basil. 

She  knitted  her  brows  with  an  air  of  perplexity. 

"  I  do  not  understand  that.     When  you  see  other  men 


aoo  ^  BROKEN  Wedding-ring, 

around  me,  and  hear  the  compliments  they  pay  me,  do  you 
never  feel  any  jealousy  ?  " 

"  No,  on  the  contrary,  I  like  to  see  you  admired." 

*'  The  other  day,"  she  continued,  "  when  Major  Staple- 
ton  followed  me  to  the  piano,  and  would  turn  over  the 
leaves  of  my  song,  looking  so  sentimental  about  it,  were 
you  not  jealous  ? " 

"  No,  I  thought  him  very  kind,"  answered  Sir  Basil, 
cheerfully. 

*'  I  will  try  to  make  you  jealous,"  she  said,  after  a  few 
moments'  thought. 

He  looked  at  her  gravely. 

"  Never  play  with  fire,  Leah,"  he  remarked.  "  We  are 
happy.  What  new  element  do  you  want  to  introduce  into 
our  happiness  ?  " 

A  slight  quiver  passed  over  her  face,  the  scarlet  flowers 
at  her  breast  stirred,  the  white,  jewelled  hands  trembled. 
Ah  I  what  indeed  ?  Why  was  she  not  content  ? 

*'  I  do  not  want  a  new  element,"  she  said — "  only  to 
deepen  an  old  one." 

"  What  is  that,  Leah  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  should  like  you  to  love  me  more,"  she  said.  "  Some- 
times it  seems  to  me  that  I  ask  for  bread,  and  you  give 
me  a  stone.  It  may  be  my  fancy  ;  but  I  cannot  help  think- 
ing that  I  love  you  better  than  you  love  me." 

**  How  can  you  measure  love  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  By  love,"  she  replied,  quickly.  "  There  is  no  other 
way." 

**  You  must  have  patience  with  me,  Leah,"  he  said.  "  I 
am  a  novice  m  all  these  matters." 

**  You  ought  not  to  be  a  novice  now,"  she  replied.  "  I 
wish  you  would  tell  me  when  you  really  began  to  love  me." 

There  is  nothing  more  embarrassing  or  irritating  to  a 
man  than  to  have  his  love  probed  by  a  woman  when  he  is 
<;onscious  of  ^  deficiency  in  his  affection.    Sir  Basil  wa? 


A  BROKEN  WMDD/NG'RING.  301 

always  at  a  loss  how  to  answer  Leah  when  she  talked  to 
him  in  this  fashion.  She  had  asked  him  so  many  questions 
about  his  love  for  her^  and  he  had  no  answer  to  make,  the 
simple  fact  being  that  he  had  never  thought  of  loving  her 
until  Sir  Arthur  had  placed  the  matter  before  him. 

"  Leah,  you  like  to  talk  about  love,"  he  said,  endeavor- 
ing to  turn  the  conversation. 

"  Do  I  ?  "  she  questioned,  gently.  "  It  must  be  because 
my  heart  is  so  full  of  it." 

Afterwards  she  wondered  if  it  was  wise  or  prudent  to 
let  him  know  how  dearly  she  loved  him.  Yet  how  could 
she  help  it  ?  And  why,  as  he  loved  her — why,  as  she  was 
to  be  his  wife,  should  she  be  ashamed  to  show  her  affec- 
tion ? 

She  left  Sir  Basil  more  than  a  little  puzzled.  If  jeal 
ousy  were  part  of  love,  then  assuredly  he  knew  not  love, 
for  he  knew  not  jealousy.  And  he  wondered  whethei 
Leah  would  ever  find  this  out. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 


Sir  Bastl  Carlton  was  clever  and  ambitious.  He 
5ilras  most  desirous  of  making  up  for  lost  time.  He  regretted 
the  long  years  spent  away  from  England.  It  was  true 
that  he  had  acquired  a  knowledge  of  art  that  he  could 
have  gained  in  no  other  way — music,  painting,  sculpture, 
were  household  words  to  him  ;  but  he  regretted  that  he 
had  not  secured  the  education  usually  given  to  an  English 
boy.  Nothing,  he  fancied,  could  ever  atone  to  him  for  the 
loss  of  that.  He  found  that  in  England  politics  occupied 
the  same  place  as  the  fine  arts  did  in  Italy.  He  found 
himself  looked  up  to  when  the  question  was  one  of  music, 


202  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

of  painting,  or  of  sculpture  ;  but.  when  he  essayed  to  discuss 
politics,  men  smiled — and  Sir  Basil  was  not  one  of  those 
who  were  content  to  be  smiled  at.  He  was  determined  to 
master  the  questions  of  the  day,  to  see  what  was  to  be 
said  on  every  side,  to  form  his  own  opinions  slowly,  not 
hurriedly,  and  then  to^  give  his  time,  attention,  and  in- 
terest to  whatever  side  he  embraced.  He  longed  to  be  a 
statesman  ;  politics  delighted  him.  He  could  not  take 
up  the  pen — he  had  no  faculty  for  literary  work  ;  he  did 
net  care  to  enter  the  army  or  navy,  and  he  was  not  con- 
tent to  live  without  occupatioa  He  was  wealthy  ;  his  es- 
tate of  Glen  was  a  most  valuable  one  ;  and  hundreds  of 
men  in  his  place  would  have  thought  of  nothing  but  a  life 
of  indolence  and  pleasure.  Sir  Basil  thought  only  of  what 
he  could  do  to  make  his  life  useful  ;  he  had  no  idea  of 
living  at  ease  in  a  world  where  there  was  so  much  that  re« 
quired  doing. 

He  resolved  to  study  politics  ;  and  he  was  well  pleased 
that  chance  had  made  him  acquainted  with  one  who  in  his 
time  had  caused  some  stir  in  the  political  world.  Sir  Ar- 
thur Hatton,  had  he  lived  in  olden  times,  would  have  been 
a  cavalier  of  most  perfect  type  ;  the  Duke  of  Rosedene 
was  a  devout  believer  in  the  divine  right  of  kings.  Mar- 
tin Ray  believed  in  nothing  expect  the  rights  of  the  peo- 
ple—  Vox  popuH^  vox  Dei  was  his  maxim  ;  so  that  Sir 
Basil  had  every  opportunity  of  hearing  all  sides  of  the 
question. 

When  he  started  for  Rosewalk  the  next  day,  he  hon- 
estly believed  that  he  was  going  to  see  Martin  Ray  from 
the  most  honorable  and  the  highest  motives.  He  might, 
of  course,  see  the  beautiful  singer  again  ;  it  was  not  im- 
probable ;  but  he  was  not  going  for  that  purpose. 

A  second  time  he  left  the  Abbey  for  a  long  ramble 
without  asking  Leah  to  accompany  him.  This  time  sha 
noticed  it,  but  said  nothing.    The  wind  was  keen  that  ay 


A  BROICEN'  WEDDING-RING.  203 

tumn  afternoon.  It  brought  a  delicious  freshness  from  the 
ocean  and  the  scent  from  the  wild  thyme  on  the  hill-top. 

When  he  reached  Rosevvalk,  a  young  and  beautiful 
girl  was  seated  near  the  wall  overlooking  the  sea.  What, 
at  the  first  sight  of  her,  made  his  heart  beat  so  fast?  He 
had  to  pass  close  by  her  ;  but  he  would  not  look  at  the 
golden  hair  and  sweet  face.  He  went  into  the  quaint 
flower-wreathed  porch  and  rapped  at  the  door.  Then,  as 
one  watches  things  in  a  dream,  he  saw  the  young  girl  arise 
and  walk  toward  him  with  a  firm  graceful  step. 

"  I  beg  your  'pardon,"  he  said.  "  I  want  to  see  Mr. 
Martin  Ray." 

She  drew  back  a  little,  and  looked  at  him  with  the  air 
of  one  surprised. 

"  My  father  .',  "  she  replied,  "  He  is  not  at  home." 

The  blue  eyes  looked  into  his  for  a  moment,  then  they 
fell,  and  a  soft  color  like  that  of  the  fairest  petal  of  a  rose 
covered  her  face ;  the  dark  eyes  looking  at  her  were  so 
full  of  passionate  admiration  that  she  could  not  raise  her 
own  to  his  again. 

"  Not  at  home,"  repeated  Sir  Basil.  "  I  am  sorry  for 
that.  I  was  to  see  him  to-day,  and  I  have  walked 
some  distance.  Have  I  your  permission  to  wait  until  he 
returns  ?  " 

She  looked  slightly  confused  at  first  ;  then  she  felt 
that  it  would  be  impossible  to  refuse.  She  was  only  too 
pleased  that  her  father  should  have  a  call  from  so  pleasant 
a  visitor. 

"  You  can  wait  if  you  wish  to  do  so,  "  she  replied  ; 
"but  the  hour  of  his  return  is  quite  uncertain." 

"  If  you  v/ill  allow  me,  I  will  risk  it,"  he  said.  "  I  do 
not  think  any  one  could  find  a  more  beautiful  spot  than 
this  in  which  to  while  away  the  time." 

He  sat  down  on  the  pretty  rustic  bench,  which  was  so 
placed  that  one  could  see  the  incoming  tide.     The  waves 


204  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RTNG. 

were  rolling  in  grandly  ;  the  wind  had  freshened,  and  they 
broke  in  sheets  of  white  foam.  The  sunlight  lay  on  the  sea 
and  on  the  shore,  on  the  white  cliffs  and  on  the  green  hill : 
it  fell  on  the  golden  hair  and  sweet  face  opposite  to  him. 
A  feeling  of  perfect  rest  came  over  him,  of  happiness  such 
as  in  his  whole  life  he  had  never  known  before. 

For  a  few  minutes  they  were  silent.  Hettie  did  not 
raise  her  eyes  from  her  work,  and  he  was  wondering  why 
the  presence  of  this  one  woman  made  so  great  a  difference 
to  him.  No  man  living  had  a  keener  sense  of  honor  than 
Sir  Basil,  but  it  stole  upon  him  unawares,  this  sweet  gla- 
mor of  love,  and  had  made  its  home  in  his  heart  long  be- 
fore he  knew  that  it  was  there. 

*'  I  heard  you  singing  in  church  last  Sunday,"  he  said. 
**  I  have  been  staying  in  this  neighborhood  for  some  time. 
You  have  a  very  beautiful  voice  ;  I  was  quite  delighted 
with  it." 

"  I  am  fond  of  music,"  she  answered — "  above  all  things, 
I  am  fond  of  singing  ;  it  is  the  one  pleasure  of  my  life.  1 
forget  everything  else  when  I  sing." 

"  Is  there  so  much  in  your  life  that  you  would  like  to 
forget,"  he  asked,  suddenly — "  so  young  a  life  as  yours  ? " 

Her  thoughts  flew  to  Leah.  Surely  no  one  in  the 
world  had  so  much  to  forget  as  she,  who  had  lost  this  best 
beloved  sister. 

"  I  am  not  sure,"  she  replied.  *'  There  are  some 
things  I  should  like  to  be  able  to  think  less  about." 

She  did  not  wish  to  forget  Leah,  but  she  would  gladly 
have  thought  less  bitterly  of  her  loss.  While  singing  she 
forgot  the  keen  pain,  but  never  the  cause  of  it. 

"  I  should  not  have  thought,"  he  said,  "that  you  had 
had  any  trouble  in  life.  You  are  young,  and  your  face 
has  something  of  the  joy  of  childhood  in  it." 

She  smiled  and  blushed  when  she  saw  his  eyes,  so  full 
of  admiration,  bent  upon  her. 


A  BROfCEN  WEDDING-KIN9,  20^ 

Then  he  talked  to  her  of  the  country,  of  the  sea,  and 
of  her  father,  and  he  was  delighted  with  her  enthusiasm 
about  him.  If  the  scales  had  fallen  from  her  eyes,  she 
would  not  admit  it  even  to  herself.  With  all  the  force  of 
her  loving,  tender  nature,  she  clung  not  only  to  her  father 
as  he  actually  was,  but  even  to  the  ideal  she  had  formed 
of  him.  It  was  touching  to  hear  her  speak  of  him  ;  in  his 
fallen  estate  he  was  even  greater  in  her  eyes  than  he  had 
bjen  before.  His  discontent,  irritation,  anger,  and  gloom 
made  no  difference  to  her;  his  words  to  her  were  always 
full  of  wisdom.  It  was  natural  that  he  should  feel  hurt  ; 
the  world,  she  believed,  had  been  cruel  to  him — had  under- 
valued him  and  ill-used  him.  If  gentle  Hettie  in  her 
heart  hated  anything,  it  was  this  world  which  had  not  ac- 
knowledged her  father's  worth.  She  did  not  know  much 
about  his  doctrines  and  belief  ;  he  had  not  given  himself 
the  trouble  to  teach  her.  She  had  every  quality  that  went 
to  make  a  noble  woman  ;  but  she  was  not  talented. 

There  was  always  that  line  between  Leah  and  Hettie. 
Leah  had  genius  :  she  had  the  touch  of  divine  fire  that 
separates  those  who  have  it  from  the  whole  world.  Mar- 
tin Ray,  knowing  this,  had  never  tried  to  teach  Hettie  ; 
she  was  the  better  able  to  love  him. 

**  There  must  be  good,"  Sir  Basil  said  to  himself,  "  in 
one  who  is  loved  as  she  loves  her  father.** 

And,  though  the  duke,  in  his  quiet  haughty  way,  had 
denounced  him,  Martin  Ray  rose  from  that  moment  in 
Sir  Basil's  estimation. 

When  once  Hettie  had  lost  her  shy,  embarrassed  man- 
ner, she  talked  to  Sir  Basil  with  all  the  ease  and  grace  that 
were  natural  to  her.  He  told  her  of  the  picture  in  the  Acad- 
emy and  she  was  amused  to  hear  about  it,  and  in  her  turn 
related  how  the  artist  came  to  Southwood  in  search  of  pic- 
turesque scenes,  and,  sav/  her  sitting  by  this  same  wall, 
and  begged  that  he  might  take  a  sketch  of  her  face.     She 


ao6  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

did  not  Know  that  the  picture  had  been  the  success  o  the 
year.     He  told  her  all  about  it. 

"  You  seem  to  ^live  quite  out  of  the  world  here,"  he 
said,  when  she  expressed  her  surprise. 

And  then  she  told  him  of  her  busy  life,  and  how,  do 
what  she  would,  she  could  not  make  the  days  long  enough. 

He  sat  by  the  ivy-covered  v^^all  more  than  an  hour  ;  and 
when  at  last  he  rose,  longing  to  stay,  yet  aware  that  he 
had  been  there  long  enough,  they  both  felt  as  though  they 
had  been  friends  for  years. 

Hettie  was  a  little  dismayed  when  she  remem.bered  how 
freely  she  had  talked  to  one  who  was  an  entire  stranger 
after  all.  She  had  conversed  with  him  as  though  he  had 
been  a  lifelong  friend,  and  she  did  not  even  know  his 
name  ;  but  he  had  called  to  see  her  father,  and  it  would 
have  been  rude  to  let  him  sit  alone  and  not  speak  to  him. 
Presently  she  forgot  all  about  her  imprudence  and  only 
remembered  how  pleasant  the  interview  had  been — the 
murmur  of  the  deep  voice  had  been  musical  as  the  ripple 
of  the  waters  or  the  song  of  the  birds,  and  she  seemed 
stili  to  hear  it  ;  then  the  handsome  face,  with  its  keen 
dark  eyes — she  had  seen  no  such  face  before  ! 

The  work  on  which  she  had  been  so  busy  fell  from  her 
hands,  and  she  began  to  dream.  Would  such  a  pleasant 
hour  ever  come  again  t  Would  she  see  him  and  speak  to  him 
again  ?  If  not,  she  thought  to  herself,  this  was  certainly 
the  happiest  hour  she  had  had  in  her  life.  How  well 
he  seemed  to  comprehend  her !  He  understood,  too  about 
her  father,  and  her  contempt  for  a  world  which  did  not  ap- 
preciate him.  He,  this  young  stranger  with  the  dark  noble 
face,  had  seemed  to  read  and  divine  her  thoughts.  Her 
eyes  looked  smilingly  over  the  sea. 

He  was  so  different  from  the  type  of  men  who  had 
come  to  see  her  father  hitherto.  During  her  whole  life 
she  did  not  remember  to  have  talked  to  any  one  like  hin> 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  207 

The  gentlemen  whose  little  children  she  taught  were  some- 
thiiig  like  him,  yet  far  inferior.  She  liked  to  recall  the 
grace  of  his  words  and  his  looks.  A  soft  dreamy  smile 
played  over  her  lips,  her  heart  was  stirred  with  a  faint 
sense  of  pleasure.  The  western  wind  and  the  autumn 
flowers  were  all  part  of  her  dream.  If  she  had  never 
seen  him  again,  that  dream  would  have  remained  with  her 
a  happy  memory,  a  little  oasis  of  bright  coloring  amid  the 
gray  monotony  of  her  dull  everyday  life,  a  picture  to  look 
back  upon. 

The  music  of  the  sea  was  sweeter  that  night  than  ever ; 
and  Hettie  fell  asleep  with  a  smile  on  her  lips,  and 
dreamed  of  a  dark  face,  and  dark  eyes  that  said  to  her 
what  no  other  eyes  had  ever  said. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 


Sir  Basil  called  several  times  at  Rosewalk,  and  Martin 
Ray,  who  had  all  his  life  hated  every  on^  who  could  be  called 
aristocratic,  took  a  fancy  to  him.  They  did  not  agree  in  all 
respects.  Sir  Basil  told  him  frankly  that  he  thought  some 
of  his  ideas  terrible  and  hideous. 

"You  will  see,"  said  Martin.  "You  will  live  longer 
than  I  shall.  What  I  now  teach  the  world  it  will  believe 
and  practice  when  the  stinging-nettles  are  growing  ovei 
my  grave." 

"  Why  do  you  suppose  that  your  grave  will  be  covered 
with  stinging-nettles  ?  "  asked  Sir  Basil. 

Martin  laughed  a  bitter  little  cynical  laugh. 

"  I  do  not  imagine  that  any  one«living  will  care  to  plant 
flowers  there,"  be  replied. 


2o8  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

They  were  both  startled  by  a  cry  of  pain. 

*'How  ean  you  say  so,  father  ?  After  giving  you  my 
life,  do  you  think  I  shall  forget  you  in  death  ? " 

Sir  Basil  never  forgot  the  reproach  in  the  sweet  face 
ihat  quivered  with  pain.  The  blue  eyes  had  a  strained, 
huivxd  expression. 

They  were  all  three  standing  within  the  pretty  porch 
when  this  conversation  took  place.  Hettie  forgot  every- 
thing, except  that  her  heart  was  wounded.  She  went  up 
to  her  father  with  a  little  cry  of  outraged  love,  and  put 
her  arm  around  his  neck. 

"  Dear,"  she  said,  "  I  should,  if  I  live  the  longer,  be  as 
faithful  to  you  in  death  as  I  have  been  in  life." 

"  I  know  that  ;  you  are  a  good  child,"  responded 
Martin. 

He  caressed  her  shining,  golden  hair  lovingly  ;  but 
before  him  rose  the  brilliant  face  of  the  child  he  loved  with 
his  whole  heart,and  who  had  renounced  him,and  something 
of  repressed  impatience  came  into  his  manner.  The  child 
who  had  renounced  him  and  his  doctrines,  his  life,  and  the 
mission  he  had  given  her,  was  still  a  thousand  times  dearer 
to  Martin  Ray  than  the  child  who  had  served  him  with 
tender,  faithful,  devoted  love. 

Something  in  this  little  scene  Struck  Sir  Basil  forcibly. 
He  admired  the  daughter's  devotion  ;  but  what  did  that 
hungry  wistful  despair  in  her  father's  face  mean  ?  Why 
was  he  not  comforted  by  the  sweet  love  of  his  daughter  ? 
Why  had  he  not  taken  her  in  his  arms  and  thanked  her 
tenderly  for  her  great  devotion. 

So  the  weeks  sped  on,  and  Martin  Ray,  in  his  own  cyn- 
ical, selfish  fashion,  after  a  time  became  quite  fond  of  Sir 
Basil.  He  looked  for  his  coming  ;  he  was  more  gloomy 
than  usual  on  the  days  when  he  did  not  make  his  appear- 
ance. 

They  were  talking  together  one  morning,  while  Hettie 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  eo9 

was  away  giving  her  lessons  ;  and  Sir  Basil  said  laugh 
ingly  that  it  was  strange  they  had  met  so  often  without 
Martin  even  knowing  his  name. 

There  was  something  impressive  in  the  gesture  with 
which  Martin  suddenly  held  up  his  hand. 

"  Is  it  a  name  that  you  have  made  for  yourself  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  No ;  it  was  made  for  me,"  replied  Sir  Basil. 

"  Then  I  do  not  want  to  know  it.  As  a  man  with  good 
intentions,  I  like  you ;  you  are  straightforward,  honest, 
and  honorable  ;  and,  if  you  have  one  of  those  names  with 
a  *  handle,'  probably  borne  by  many  generations  of  men 
who  have  lived  upon  their  fellow-men,  I  do  not  wish  to 
know  it.  The  first  time  I  saw  you  I  thought  you  looked 
like  an  aristocrat.  If  you  are  one,  do  not  tell  me  so  ;  it 
would  spoil  my  opinion  of  you." 

"  It  shall  be  as  you  will,"  laughed  Sir  Basil.  "  If  ever 
I  do  make  my  name  famous,  I  will  disclose  it  to  you ;  if 
not " 

"  I  do  not  care  for  a  title  that  has  been  handed  from 
father  to  son.  I  like  a  name  that  has  been  fairly  earned. 
Strange  to  say,  my  wife  was  prouder  of  her  grand  old 
name  than  of  anything  else.  It  was  singular  that  she 
should  marry  a  man  like  me." 

Sir  Basil  bethought  himself  that  the  duke  had  desired 
him,  should  he  ever  make  the  acquaintance  of  Martin  Ray, 
not  to  mention  his  name. 

"  If  you  call  me  '  Glen,' "  be  said.  "  I  shall  understand; 
and  that  name  will  do  as  well  as  any  other." 

**  I  hope,"  said  Martin,  half  savagely,  **  that  you  are 
not  a  young  duke  in  disguise." 

"  I  am  quite  sure  of  that,"  replied  Sir  Basil,  laughingly. 
"I  am  neither  duke  nor  *  belted  earl.'  " 

"  It  would  be  hard  work  to  hate  you  j  but  I  should  hate 
you  if  you  were,"  said  Martin. 


210  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

From  that  time  he  always  called  Sir  Basil  **  Glen ; " 
and  when  Hettie  spoke  of  him  it  was  as  "  Mr.  Glen." 

It  often  happened  that  when  he  called  at  the  cottage 
he  found  Hettie  at  home  alone ;  and  then  they  talked 
together  by  the  ivy-covered  wall. 

*'  Knowing  you  has  made  such  a  difference  in  our 
lives,"  she  said  to  him  one  morning.  "  My  father  seems 
so  much  better  for  it.  You  cheer  him,  and  give  him  back 
some  of  the  old  fire  which  had  nearly  died  out.  I  am  glad 
for  his  sake  that  you  find  time  to  visit  us." 

"  Are  you  not  glad  for  any  other  reason  ?  "  he  asked 
impetuously.  "  Are  you  not  pleased  to  see  me  yourself  ? " 
Then  he  remembered  that  he  had  no  right  to  say  such 
words  to  her.  "  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  gently.  "  I 
express  myself  badly.  What  I  mean  is,  that  I  receive 
more  pleasure  in  being  dlowed  to  call  here  than  I  can 
possibly  give." 

It  was  such  sudden,  abrupt  changes  in  his  manner  that 
made  her  think  more  of  him,  perhaps,  than  she  otherwise 
would  have  thought.  He  exhibited  at  times  a  certain 
degree  of  tenderness,  which  would  vanish  like  magic  and 
give  place  to  silence  that  was  almost  stern. 

Sir  Basil  was  very  kind  to  the  man  whom  every  one 
else  seemed  to  have  forsaken.  He  brought  him  newspapers. 
If  he  heard  him  express  a  desire  for  a  particular  book,  he 
obtained  it  for  him.  More  than  once,  when  Martin  took  ill 
and  feeble,  he  had  sent  a  case  of  choice  wine.  Martin 
took  it  all  in  good  part ;  it  was  a  tribute  to  his  worth  that 
he  quite  approved.  ^ 

"  There  is  the  making  of  a  fine  man  in  Glen,"  he  would 
say  to  his  daughter. 

**  Is  he  not  a  fine  man  now  ? "  she  would  ask,  half 
timidly. 

And  Martin  would  shake  his  head. 

"  Not  yet.    He  could  be  trained.    He  has  genius,  and 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  n^ 

hft  has  eloquence  ;  he  would  make  a  good  orator.  I  like 
him ;  but  my  own  impression  is  that  his  ideas  are  not  yet 
sound,  that  he  is  studying  the  two  great  questions,  hesi- 
tating between  the  two  great  parties." 

"  You  must  help  him,  father,"  Hettie  would  answer, 
blithely — "  no  one  understands  these  matters  so  well  as 
you  do."  And  such  demonstrations  of  faith  in  him  pleased 
Martin  Ray. 

It  was  impossible  that  these  long  absences  should  pass 
unnoticed.  Not  that  Leah  was  unreasonable,  or  expected 
Sir  Basil  to  follow  her  like  a  shadow,  but  she  did  wonder 
why  he  never  asked  her  to  accompany  him. 

"  Another  long  ramble,  Basil  ? "  she  said  one  morning, 
as  he  passed  her  in  the  hall.  "  I  am  afraid  we  shall  have 
rain." 

"  It  looks  like  it,"  returned  Sir  Basil ;  but  he  did  not 
offer  to  remain  at  horn 

"I  will  go  with  you  to  the  park  gates,"  she  said, 
gently. 

She  always  looked  beautiful  in  the  old-fashionea  oroad- 
brimmed  garden  hat  that  threw  a  softened  shade  on  her 
face.  Her  dress  of  pale  amber  trailing  over  the  green 
grass  became  her  admirably. 

**  They  will  be  the  handsomest  couple  in  England,"  the 
duchess  remarked,  as  she  caught  sight  of  them  from  the 
conservatory. 

"You  worship  beauty,  duchess,"  said  the  general, 
laughing  at  her  enthusiasm.  \ 

"  When  I  see  it,"  she  replied. 

Leah  and  Sir  Basil  went  through  the  grounds  to  the 
gates  of  the  park. 

"  Shall  you  be  long,  Basil  ? "  she  asked,  wistfully. 

He  noticed  that  she  did  not  ask  where  he  was  going. 

**No;  I  am  going  to  Southwood,  LeaV'  he  replied. 


212  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RmO, 

**  The  fact  is,  I  have  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  famous 
old  politician  there,  and  his  arguments  interest  me." 

The  words  conveyed  no  meaning  to  her.  That  the  old 
politician  should  be  her  father,  Martin  Ray,  never  oc- 
curred to  her.  Never  were  two  persons  so  near  a  truth 
without  revealing  it ;  never  did  the  points  of  two  lives 
meet  so  closely,  and  then  diverge.  If  she  had  merely 
said,  "  What  politician  ? "  or  "  Who  is  he  1 "  he  would  have 
answered,  "  Martin  Ray,"  and  who  can  tell  how  different 
many  lives  would  have  been  ?  She  was  engrossed  in  hef 
lover  and  in  everything  concerning  him  ;  but  she  was  not 
curious,  and  was  not  given  to  questioning  him.  She  knew 
that  he  was  greatly  interested  in  the  political  struggles  of 
the  day ;  she  knew  also  that  he  hoped  in  time  to  become 
a  statesman  ;  and  that  an  old  politician  should  instruct  and 
amuse  him  seemed  to  her  quite  natural.  It  was  a  strange 
decree  of  fate  that  the  man  whom  she  loved  with  all  her 
heart  should  have  met  and  have  grown  interested  in  the 
father  she  had  renounced. 

"Basil,"  she  said  gayly,  "I  shall  take  to  politics. 
When  you  are  a  great  statesman,  chancellor  of  the  exche- 
quer, or  prime  minister,  you  will  want  a  political  wife.  I 
shall  give  grand  dinner-parties,  and  cajole  everybody  into 
telling  me  his  secrets." 

"  You  will  have  tO  be  very  clever  to  do  that,  Leah,"  he 
rejoined,  laughing. 

"  I  shall  manage  it.  You  will  see  that  I  shall  learn 
all  the  plans  of  the  various  parties  for  you.  I  am  sure 
that  I  shall  make  an  excellent  wife  for  a  statesman."  They 
had  reached  the  park  gates,  and  she  continued  :  "  If  I  had 
anything  but  a  garden-hat  on,  I  would  accompany  you, 
Basil.  The  house  is  dull  to  me  when  you  are  out  of  it 
Make  haste  home  again,  dear." 

How  she  loved  him  !  How  grateful  he  ought  to  have 
been  for  such  love  !    How  happy  he  ought  to  have  been  J 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  213 

Vet  he  sighed  as  he  climbed  the  hill,  and  caught  sight  of 
the  restless  sea  ;  and  his  face,  when  Martin  Ray  saw  him, 
was  not  the  face  of  a  happy  man. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 


Two  more  weeks  passed,  and  by  that  time  Martin  Ray 
had  grown  warmly  attached  to  the  man  whom  he  would 
call  "  young  Glen  ;  "  Martin  himself  was  ill — his  health 
was  fast  failing ;  and  he  clung  to  this  younger  man,  so  full 
of  health,  strength,  and  vitality— only  a  chance  acquain- 
tance, but  one  of  the  few  ties  that  bound  him  to  the  outer 
world.  Men  had  forgotten  him ;  he  said  bitterly  that  they 
had  not  even  waited  until  he  was  dead.  Now  that  his 
health  and  strength  had  left  him,  now  that  his  grand  son- 
orous voice  could  no  longer  declaim  its  magnificent  denun- 
ciations, now  that  the  inner  fire  had  burned  out,  and  in 
the  sunken  eyes  the  light  of  enthusiasm  shone  no  more, 
he  was  forgotten  by  the  thousands  whom  he  had  led ;  not 
one  cared  what  had  become  of  him,  and,  but  for  the  faith- 
ful love  and  service  of  his  daughter,  he  must  have  died. 
In  these  days  much  of  his  pride  had  left  him,  and  there 
were  times  when  his  eyes  ached  for  one  glimpse  of  Leah. 
Then,  sitting  moodily  watching  the  sea,  he  would  ask  him- 
self if  he  had  really  cursed  her,  and  if  Heaven  had  heard 
his  evil  wish. 

One  day  Sir  Basil,  coming  earlier  than  usual  in  the 
morning,  found  him  sitting  by  the  ivy-covered  wall,  his 
face  buried  in  his  hands.  When  he  raised  it  to  greet  him, 
the  baronet  saw  plamly  the  traces  of  tears. 

As  usual,  Martin  was  cynical,  even  about  himself. 

"  I  am  a  very  rueful-looking  patriot  this  morning"  h© 
said.     "  I  have  been  ill  all  night,  and  I  am  alone/* 

Sir  Basil  glanced  round. 


214 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 


"  Where  is  Miss  Ray  ? "  he  asked. 

"  My  daughter  is  always  busied  about  something  of 
other ;  she  has  not  much  time  to  give  to  me.  It  was 
different  once.'* 

Sir  Basil  felt  indignant.  He  knew  that,  no  matter 
where  Hettie  might  be,  she  was  working  for  him  and  for 
no  one  else. 

"  I  think,"  he  said,  quietlj*,  "  that  Miss  Ray  gives  you 
all  her  time.     I  have  never  seen  a  daughter  so  devoted." 

"  She  is  very  good,"  he  allowed  ;  and  then  he  added, 
abruptly,  "  I  had  another  daughter  ones." 

It  seemed  as  though  some  irresponsible  power  forced 
him  to  talk  of  Leah.  It  was  the  first  time  he  had  spoken 
of  her  since  the  day  she  had  left  him,  and,  like  pent-up 
waters  suddenly  let  loose,  his  thoughts  and  feelings  at  once 
found  vent.  He  rose  from  his  seat  and  stretched  his 
arms  out  toward  the  great  heaving  ocean. 

"  I  have  never  pretended  to  be  what  people  call  ten- 
der-hearted, but  my  love  for  that  girl  was  deeper  than  the 
sea,"  he  cried — "  deeper  and  wider  than  yonder  sea !" 

Sir  Basil  thought  to  himself  that  he  looked  like  one  of 
the  grand  heroes  of  old,  with  his  tall  figure  and  massive 
head,  his  arms  outstretched  in  appealing  despair. 

"I  made  two  idols,"  he  continued.  "The  first  was 
my  wife — she  died  ;  the  other  was  my  daughter." 

"  Did  she  die  also  ? "  said  Sir  Basil,  pityingly. 

"  No ,  she  is  worse  than  dead — -a  thousand  times  worse 
than  dead.  If  I  could  weep  over  some  green  grave  con* 
taining  her  I  should  be  happier." 

"  Not  dead  ?  "  said  Sir  Basil,  wonderingly, 

"  No ;  she  deserted  me  ;  she  cast  me  off,  much  as  you 
would  throw  away  your  old  gloves.  I  swore  that  I  would 
never  mention  her  name  ;  but,  if  I  do  not  speak,  my  heart 
will  break.  I  have  thought  of  her  all  night  against  m^ 
will — quite  against  my  will." 


A  BROKEN'  WEDDING-RING.  215 

"  It  is  only  natural  that  you  should  think  of  her,*'  re- 
joined the  baronet. 

"  No ;  you  do  not  know  what  she  did.  I  had  these  two 
daughters,  Hettie  and — another.  Hettie  is  a  loving,  gentle 
girl ;  the  other  was  a  genius,  a  bright,  beautiful,  gifted 
girl,  who  would  have  been  a  prophetess  among  the  people. 
My  heart  was  wrapped  up  in  her.  People  say  that  a 
father  should  make  no  difference  in  the  love  that  he  bears 
his  children.  How  can  he  help  it  ?  To  me  one  was  as  a 
magnificent  imperial  eagle,  the  other  like  a  gentle  white 
dove.  I  loved  the  eagle  best.  I  wanted  to  make  her  a 
heroine,  to  teach  her  to  go  among  the  people,  to  teach  as 
I  had  taught.  She  was  so  beautiful,  so  full  of  fire  and 
spirit,  a  grand  soul  shining  in  her  eyes !  I  told  her  what 
I  wanted.  I  asked  her  for  her  life's  service.  What  is  the 
service  of  a  life  when  one  loves  a  cause  ?  On  the  very 
day  that  I  unfolded  my  plans  to  her  a  stranger  came 
among  us — a  man  related  to  my  wife.  He  was  rich — bah, 
how  I  hate  to  speak  of  him  ! — and  he  wanted  to  adopt  my 
children.  I  refused  his  offer ;  he  appealed  to  them.  Ah ! 
Heaven,  when  I  think  of  the  scene  !  She,  the  daughter 
whom  I  loved  best,  left  me,  and  went  up  to  him,  this 
stranger,  and  clung  to  him.     *  Take  me  away,*  she  cried. 

*  I  have  been  praying  to  Heaven  to  send  me  a  deliverer 
from  this  furnace  of  fire  ! '  She  went  away  with  him,  and 
I  cursed  her.** 

As  he  finished  speaking,  Martin  Ray's  arms  fell  nerve. 

lessly  by  his  side,  and  his  gray  head  drooped  upon  his 

breast. 

"  And  the  other— Hettie— what  did  she  do  ?  *' 

*'  Ah  !  good,  faithful  Hettie  !     She  came  to  me.    I  see 

the  picture  now.  Glen.     She  put  her  arms  round  my  neck. 

*  I  will  love  you,  and  serve  you,  and  be  true  to  you  until  I 
'^Ae/  she  said.  And  so  we  four  stood  looking  at  each 
iilfear,    Tben  the  other  two  went  away.    Hettie  and  I  have 


ai6  A  BROKEN  WEDDINC-RWG, 

been  alone  ever  since  ;  we  have  never  uttered  her  sister's 
name  since  the  day  she  left  us,  and  we  never  shall.  If 
Hettie  ever  breathed  it,  I  would  send  her  from  us.  Yet 
to-day  I  grieve  that  I  cursed  my  eldest  child.  What  do 
you  think,"  added  Martin,  after  a  short  pause,  "  of  the 
choice  my  daughters  made  ?  " 

*'  I  think  Miss  Hettie  one  of  the  must  devoted,  most 
unselfish  girls  in  the  world,"  answered  the  baronet. 

"  And  what  do  you  think  of  the  other  ?  "  asked  Martin 
Ray. 

"  What  can  I  think  ?  "  said  Sir  Basil.  "  What  could 
any  man  think  of  a  girl  who  deserts  her  own  father  and 
clings  to  a  stranger  ?  '* 

"  You  condemn  her  then  ? "  questioned  Martin  Ray, 
eagerly. 

"  It  is  not  my  place  to  judge  or  condemn.  Perhaps 
she  could  put  the  matter  in  a  way  which  would  make  it 
appear  quite  different ;  but,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  I  should 
say  that  Miss  Hettie  was  by  far  the  more  noble  of  the  two. 
I  should  think  her  sister  selfish,  and  certainly  wanting  in 
nobility  of  character — wanting,  too,  in  natural  affection,  if 
she  could  desert  her  father  and  cling  to  a  stranger." 

"  I  have  never  been  the  same  man  since,"  said  Martin 
Ray,  with  a  sigh. 

"  I  should  hardly  have  thought  that  two  sisters  could 
have  differed  so  greatly,"  remarked  Sir  Basil,  quite  uncon- 
scious that  by  his  own  words  he  was  condemning  the  girl 
he  had  asked  to  be  his  wife. 

"  I  should  like  to  know,"  said  Martin  Ray,  with  a 
haggard  face,  *'  if  curses  ever  really  cause  evil ;  I  should  like 
to  know  if  that  proud,  beautiful  head  will  bend  under  the 
curse  I  laid  upon  it  ?  " 

"  I  hope  not,"  answered  Sir  Basil,  quietly. 

Martin  turned  to  him  suddenly. 

"rromise  me,"  he  said,  "  that  you  will  not  reveal  one 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  217 

word  of  what  I  have  told  you.  Hettie  believes  that  I  have 
forgotten  her  sister.     I  wish  her  still  to  think  so/' 

"  I  shall  never  speak  of  it,"  promised  Sir  Basil.  "  You 
may  rely  upon  me." 

But  as  he  went  home  he  thought  much  of  the  story  he 
had  just  heard.  What  a  strange  thing  that  two  sisters 
should  differ  so  greatly — that  one  should  be  so  noble,  so 
full  of  self-sacrifice  and  that  the  other  should  leave  her 
father  and  go  away  with  a  stranger !  He  admired  Hettie 
more  than  ever. 

"  She  has  an  angelic  face  and  an  angelic  nature,"  he  said 
to  himself.     "  It  is  not  often  that  the  two  go  together." 

He  remembered  the  story  again  when  he  saw  Leah. 
So  perfectly  unconscious  was  he  that  she  was  the  heroine 
of  it  that  he  thought  to  himself  how  grandly  Leah  would 
have  acted  in  the  circumstances ;  he  felt  sure  that  she, 
too,  would  have  gone  to  her  father's  side  and  have  stood 
by  him  against  the  whole  world. 

When  he  called  again  at  the  cottage,  Martin  was  very 
ill,  and  Hettie  in  great  distress.  She  looked  to  him  more 
beautiful  than  ever,  her  blue  eyes  filled  with  tears,  her 
lovely  face  so  full  of  sorrow  and  compassion.  He  watched 
her  preparing  with  deft  fingers  all  that  Martin  needed. 
He  thought  of  the  heavy  burden  laid  upon  those  young 
shoulders,  and  he  wondered  again  at  the  heartlessness  of 
the  sister  who  could  have  left  it  all  for  her  to  bear.  His 
heart  went  out  to  her,  as  he  believed  in  simple  pity.  It 
was  such  a  hard  life. 

«  I  wish,"  he  said,  approaching  her,  "  that  I  could  do 
something  for  you." 

"  You  have  done  a  great  deal  for  me,"  she  replied, 
with  a  quick,  bright  smile. 

«  Have  I  ?    What  is  it.  Miss  Hettie  ? " 

"  You  have  given  me  comfort  by  speaking  so  kindly." 

•*  If  I  knew  how  to  give  you  comfort,"  said  Sir  Basil, 


ai8  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

quickly,  **  I  would  ask  for  nothing  better.  I  cannot  telt 
you  how  sorry  I  am  to  see  you  so  sorely  tried.  Let  me 
lift  that  heavy  tray  for  you.  Those  little  white  hands  of 
yours  were  never  made  for  hard  work  like  this. 

"  I  think,"  she  said,  smiling  through  her  tears,  **  that 
you  would  be  amused  to  see  how  much  what  you  call  my 
*  little  white  hands  '  can  do  between  sewing  and  writing. 
It  seems  to  me  they  travel  many  miles  each  day." 

Sir  Basil  stood  by  quite  helpless.  He  saw  how  anxious 
and  distressed  Hettie  was,  and  he  thought  with  bitterness 
of  the  sister  who  had  left  her.  Something  of  what  filled 
his  heart  was  shown  in  his  manner,  and  in  some  vague  way 
they  understood  each  other.  Without  words,  something 
was  acknowledged  by  both — his  sympathy,  her  gratitude 
for  it,  his  kindly  affection,  and  her  pleasure  in  it. 

Sir  Basil  did  not  stay  long  ;  but  when  he  bade  Hettie 
farewell  something  was  in  each  face  which  had  never  been 
there  before,  some  new  feeling  stirred  each  heart.  They 
said  good-night  hurriedly,  with  averted  faces  ;  but  in 
Hettie's  heart  there  was  a  thrill  of  something  like  new  life, 
and  in  Sir  Basil's  a  strange,  tumultuous  happiness  that  he 
hardly  understood. 

Leah  wondered  more  than  ever  at  the  preoccupied 
manner  of  her  lover.  Was  he  thinking  of  her  ?  Was  it 
the  future  that  troubled  him  ?  Was  he  dreaming  of  poll-' 
tics  ?  The  last  thing  in  this  world  that  she  would  have 
suspected  was  that  he  was  thinking  ot  feer  Ipug-lost  sister 
Hettie. 


A  BROKEN  WEDDINQ-RJNQ.  3x9 


CHAPTER  XXXIIL 

The  time  came  when  Sir  Basil  Carlton  stood  face  to 
face  with  the  knowledge  of  his  own  secret,  when  he  said  to 
himself  that,  if  marriages  were  made 'in  heaven,  Hettie 
was  the  one  woman  intended  for  him,  that  she  was  the 
only  woman  in  this  world  he  could  ever  love.  She  stood 
out  quite  distinct  and  clear  to  him.  He  knew  that  at  last 
he  had  met  the  love  that  was  his  doom,  that  he — Sir  Basil 
Carlton,  engaged  to  marry  the  great  heiress,  Leah  Hatton 
— loved  with  his  whole  heart  Hettie  Ray,  the  daughter  of 
a  man  whose  name  seemed  to  be  hated  and  despised 
among  the  class  of  which  he  himself  was  a  prominent 
member.  That  Hettie  was  poor  and  unknown,  that  she 
was  the  daughter  of  such  a  father,  he  cared  nothing.  If 
he  had  been  free,  he  would  have  pleaded  his  suit,  he  would 
have  taken  her  in  his  arms  and  never  let  her  go  until  she 
had  promised  to  be  his  wife.  As  it  was,  knowing  that  he 
loved  her,  he  must  look  upon  her  face  only  once  again, 
and  then  it  must  be  to  say  farewell. 

He  marvelled  within  himself  at  the  strange  fate  that 
had  befallen  him.  The  woman  who  loved  him  better  than 
her  own  life  was  beautiful  as  a  goddess,  and  she  would 
bring  to  her  husband,  both  money  and  lands  ,-  yet  his  heart 
did  not  incline  to  her.  He  was  grateful  to  her,  fond  of 
her,  but  he  did  not  love  her  with  the  love  that  comes  but 
once  in  life. 

She  had  loved  him  ;  and,  because  her  happiness  was 
dear  to  him,  because  her  uncle  had  told  him  that  her  life 
was  wrapped  up  in  his,  because  he  was  heart-whole  and 
fancy-free,  he  had  asked  her  to  marry  him.  And,  now 
taat  he  was  bound  in  faith  and  honor  to  her,  he  had  met 


azo  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

the  one  woman  who  seemed  to  have  been  made  for  him. 
He  was  perplexed,  agitated.  He  loved  one  woman  with 
his  whole  heart,  and  had  promised  to  marry  another. 
Which  way  did  honor  lie  ?  Was  it  best  to  keep  his  pronr 
ise,  to  go  away  and  never  look  on  Hettie's  fair  face 
again,  to  give  up  the  one  love  that  might  have  blessed  his 
life,  and  marry  the  woman  he  did  not  love,  but  to  whom 
he  was  in  honor  bound  ?  Which  was  best  ?  Was  it  hon- 
orable to  marry  without  love,  or  was  it  most  honorable  to 
break  all  other  ties  and  marry  the  one  truly  beloved  ? 

He  had  not  sought  his  fate ;  he  had  been  almost  asked 
to  marry  Leah  ;  so  much  had  been  said  to  him  that,  with 
out  being  absolutely  cruel,  he  could  not  have  done  other- 
wise ;  and  now  he  found  that  he  had  made  himself  miserable 
for  life. 

*'  I  wish,"  he  cried  to  himself,  in  vain  reproach,  "  that 
I  had  not  been  so  impetuous.  If  I  had  waited  but  one  year 
longer  !  " 

Sir  Basil  was  dissatisfied  with  himself  ;  look  which  way 
he  would,  he  had  reason  for  self-reproach.  He  should 
have  taUen  more  time  to  think  over  the  subject,  and  know 
ing  himself  bound  in  honor  to  Leah,  he  should  have  been 
more  careful  about  Hettie.  He  knew  now  that  he  had  loved 
Hettie  at  first  sight  ;  he  ought  not  to  have  yielded  to  the 
temptation  of  seeing  her  a  second  time.  When  he  found 
that  morning,  noon,  and  night  the  fair  face  with  its  halo  of 
golden  hair  haunted  him,  he  should  have  known  the  reason. 

He  stood  face  to  face  with  this  one  fact  at  last — that 
wealth,  title,  fame,  grandeur,  nothing  that  earth  could  give 
him  was  of  any  value  unless  with  it  he  had  the  love  of 
Hettie  Ray.     He  was  in  despair. 

"  Who  is  it  that  directs  this  power  we  call  love  ?  "  he 
asked  himself.  "  Why  can  I  not  love  the  woman  I  must 
marry  ?  Why  can  I  not  marry  the  woman  I  love  ?  " 

Looking  forward  through  the  possible  years  of  a  long 


A  BROFTEN  WEDDINV'KmG.  221 

life,  he  saw  no  gleam  of  brightness ;  there  could  be  no 
happiness  in  a  future  unshared  by  Hettie  Ray.  He  was 
not  the  first  man  who  had  stood  confused  and  embarrassed 
on  the  threshold  of  life — not  the  first  c^  go  through  that 
terrible  struggle  between  duty  and  inclination  from  which 
no  man,  perhaps,  altogether  escapes.  What  would  he  have 
said  or  thought  had  he  known  that  the  two  girls  between 
whom  he  was  so  curiously  placed  were  sisters  ?  He  thought 
himself  already  the  sport  of  fate.  If  he  had  known  the 
truth,  he  would  have  believed  himself  cursed  by  fate.  He 
began  to  wonder  what  Hettie's  feelings  were — if  she  cared 
for  him  ;  and  then  his  conscience  reproached  him.  He  knew 
she  did ;  he  had  read  her  love  in  his  eyes  on  that  night 
when  everything  was  changed  between  them.  If  he  were 
but  free  I  It  seemed  almost  unmanly,  but  he  could  not 
help  the  bitter  sob  which  rose  to  his  lips.  He  knew  that 
the  present  state  of  things  must  end,  that  he  must  make 
up  his  mind  with  respects  to  some  immediate  course  of  ac- 
tion. He  must  not  play  with  fire,  he  must  not  dally  with 
temptation,  he  must  decide  at  once  which  way  honor  lay. 

That  same  evening,  after  dinner,  the  duchess  proposed 
that  they  should  spend  an  hour  in  the  picture-gallery,  which 
ran  half  round  the  house  and  was  one  of  the  most  magni- 
ficent parts  of  it.  The  Dene  collection  of  pictures  was 
considered  one  of  the  finest  in  England.  Portraits  of  the 
Rosedenes  of  many  generations  hung  there  with  pictures 
by  the  old  masters  and  by  modern  artists.  White  marble 
statues  and  jardinieres  with  costly  flowers  filled  the  nu- 
merous recesses ;  while  comfortable  seats  were  inter- 
spersed here  and  there. 

The  duchess  sat  in  a  lounging  chair  of  crimson  velvet, 
watching  the  pretty  groups  scattered  about ;  but  there  were 
two  among  the  guests  upon  whom  her  eyes  chiefly  rested. 
One  was  a  tall,  graceful  girl  draped  in  palest  amber,  half 
covered  with  black  lace ;  diamcnds  shone  on  her  dark  head. 


222  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

on  her  white  breast,  and  on  her  beautifui  arms.  She  carried 
a  fan  glittering  with  jewels  and  made  of  pale  amber  plumes  ; 
her  dress  was  cut  after  the  fashion  of  an  old  Venetian  piC' 
ture,  and  with  the  diamonds  at  her  breast  were  some  scarlet 
passion-flowers.  She  formed  a  perfect  picture  ;  and  so 
many  of  the  gentlemen  present  seemed  to  think,  for  they 
haunted  her  like  shadows.  Shadows,  too,  they  were  to 
her,  for  she  saw  only  Sir  Basil ;  her  eyes  never  lingered 
with  interest  on  any  one  else.  She  had  been  walking  up 
and  down  what  was  called  the  south  gallery  with  Sir  Basil, 
and  the  duchess  saw  with  annoyance  that  while  Leah's 
whole  soul  shone  in  her  eyes  and  trembled  on  her  lips,  he 
was  distant  and  preoccupied. 

"The  man  who  has  won  the  love  of  such  a  woman 
ought  to  be  proud  of  her,"  she  thought ;  "  but  if  I  were  to 
express  my  ideas  on  the  subject,!  should  say  that  he  looks 
most  decidedly  bored." 

It  was  true.  All  the  brilliancy  of  Leah's  beauty,  Jier 
grace,  her  wit,  the  touch  of  genius  which  made  her  different 
from  others,  the  very  lavishness  of  the  love  she  gave  him, 
tired  him.  He  knew  that  the  position  was  pitiful,  that  it 
was  cruel ;  but  he  could  not  help  it.  As  he  walked  by  her 
side,  the  shining  amber  robes  and  the  light  of  her  diamonds 
contrasted  unfavorably  with  the  pale  blue  dress  and  sweet 
face  of  the  girl  whom  he  loved  so  dearly. 

"  Basil,"  she  said,  "  I  am  jure  you  are  not  listening  to 
me ;  your  thoughts  are  elsewhere.  Do  you  know  what 
Lady  Fanny  Curtiss  said  about  you  to-day  ?  " 

"Lady  Fanny  is  so  very  uncomplimentary,  I  hardly 
care  to  inquire,"  laughed  Sir  Basil. 

"  She  said  that  you  looked  like  one  of  the  Gunpowder. 
Plot  band — that  you  wanted  only  a  slouched  hat,  a  large 
cloak,  and  a  lantern  to  make   you  a  perfect  conspirator." 

"  What  called  forth  Lady  Fanny's  wit  ?  "  he  asked. 

**  You  have  looked  so  sad,  Basil,  during  the  last  tew 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING'RmG,  533 

days ;  you  have  lost  all  the  bright,  cheer}^  genial  manner 
which  made  you  so — so  irresistible." 

"What  an  expressive  word  Leah  1  "  he  replied,  trying 
to  treat  the  matter  lightly. 

They  were  standing  then  hy  a  magnificent  statue  of 
Cleopatra  holding  the  viper  in  her  hand.  The  marble 
face  of  the  unhappy  queen  looked  down  upon  them. 

"  Do  not  laugh  at  me,  Basil,"  she  said  ;  and  the  passion 
in  her  voice  awed  him.  She  stood  quite  still  and  laid  her 
hand,  as  though  for  support,  upon  the  arm  of  the  Egyptian 
queen.  *^  Tell  me  dear,  is  it  my  fault  that  you  are  not 
happy  ?  Haye  I  done  anything  that  has  displeased  you  ? 
You  know  that  I  live  only  for  you.  Is  it  I  who  vex  you, 
who  grieve  you,  Basil  ? "  Her  beautiful  head  drooped 
nearer  to  him.  "My  love,  my  love,*  she  whispered.  "  if 
there  be  a  single  thing  in  my  daily  life  that  does  not  please 
you,  tell  me,  and  I  will  change  it." 

At  that  moment  he  wished  himself  dead ;  he  hated  him- 
self because  he  could  not  give  her  back  love  for  love. 

"  There  is  nothing  in  you  that  could  be  changed  for 
the  better,  Leah,"  he  said  ;  "  you  are  perfect.  You  never 
either  grieve  or  vex  me.  I  am  out  of  health  or  spirits  I 
think.'' 

She  touched  with  her  wann  loving  lips  the  hand  that 
lay  near  her ;  but  the  marble  Cleopatra  was  not  colder 
than  was  his  heart 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 


Sir  Basil  had  decided.     He  had  tried  to  think  of  his  case 

as  though  it  were  another's  ;  he  had  tried  to  weigh  it,  give 

judgment  upon  it.-    There  were  two  courses  open  to  him 

—he  could  go  to  Leah,  tell  her  his  story,  and  ask  for  his 

8 


234  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

freedom,  or  he  could  leave  Dene  and  never  look  on  Hettie's 
sweet  face  again. 

If  he  decided  to  pursue  the  former,  he  knew  that  it 
would  be  far  less  cruel  were  he  to  plunge  a  knife  into 
Leah's  breast ;  he  knew  that  it  would  kill  her  more  surely 
than  if  he  had  gone  away  and  left  her  long  before.  Was. 
it  his  duty  to  consider  her  first  ?  Clearly.  He  had  asked 
her  to  be  his  wife !  he  had  never  dreamed  that  a  time  would 
come  when  he  should  love  with  all  the  madness,  the  pas- 
sion, the  impetuosity  of  youth ;  he  had  fancied  in  some 
vague  way  that  his  engagement  would  save  him  from  it. 
Yes — before  he  thought  of  himself  or  his  own  happiness, 
he  must  think  of  Leah. 

Only  a  few  months  since,  his  life  had  lain  before  him 
bright  and  calm  as  a  summer  sea ;  he  had  known  but  little 
trouble.  He  had  youth,  wealth,  every  good  gift,  in  short ; 
ncv/  all  these  were  valueless  to  him,  because  he  must  re- 
nounce the  thing  he  loved  best.  Weighing  all  the  circum- 
stances, he  did  not  think  he  could  have  called  himself  dis- 
honorable had  he  told  the  whole  story  to  Leah.  But  he 
could  not  crush  her — her  whose  only  fault  was  loving  him 
not  wisely,  but  too  well.  She  must  be  his  first  care,  since 
she  was  his  promised  wife.  But,  while  he  was  deciding  to 
surrender  all  hopes  for  the  future,  he  determined  to  have 
one  more  glimpse  of  paradise  and  say  farewell  to  Hettie, 
so  that  he  might  take  with  him  through  all  time  the  mem- 
ory of  her  words  and  looks. 

On  the  morning  after  he  had  come  to  this  decision  he 
told  the  general  that  it  was  very  probable  he  should  be 
compelled  to  return  to  Glen  in  a  few  days.  Business 
awaited  him  ;  one  or  two  leases  had  fallen  in — and  there 
was  adjoining  property  for  sale — in  fact,  there  were  several 
important  reasons  why  he  must  go  at  once. 

"  Leah  will  be  very  sorry,"  said  Sir  Arthur,  whosa 
first  thought  was  always  for  his  beloved  nieceu 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 


225 


Sir  Basil  was  not  the  man  to  do  things  by  halves. 

*'  Why  need  you  linger  after  I  am  gone  ?  You  can  bring 
Leah  back  to  Brentwood.  I  am  sure  she  will  be  pleased 
to  be  at  home  again,  though  they  make  us  very  happy  here. 
And,  Sir  Arthur,"  he  continued,  determined  to  rivet  his 
thains  at  once,  **when  you  are  once  more  at  Brentwood,  I 
want  to  talk  to  you  about — about  the  marriage  ;  it  is  time 
something  was  settled." 

Sir  Arthur  laughed  and  looked  pleased. 

**  You  must  talk  to  Leah  about  that,  Basil,"  he  said. 
"  Place  aux  dames  always  !  " 

"  Yes,  I  will  talk  to  Leah  about  it,"  returned  the  other, 
impetuously.     "  I  do  not  see  the  use  of  this  long  delay." 

"  Nor  do  I,"  said  the  general.  "  I  do  not  understand 
the  art  of  love-making ;  but  you  have  both  had  plenty  of 
time  to  make  up  your  minds.  You  love  each  other ;  I  do 
not  see  what  need  there  is  for  further  waiting." 

How  Sir  Basil  winced  at  the  simple  words,  at  the  im- 
plic  \  faith,  the  complete  confidence  and  trust  reposed  in 
hiifl  \  What  would  this  old  soldier  say  if  he  knew  that  he 
had  pven  his  heart,  his  love,  to  some  one  else  ? 

The  same  day  he  told  Leah  of  his  intention  to  leave 
DeiiC.  He  often  afterward  thought  of  the  scene.  She 
waf  in  the  drawing-room,  standing  by  the  table,  turning 
over  the  leaves  of  a  book,  when  he  went  up  to  her. 

**  Leah,"  he  said,  gently,  "  I  find  from  my  letters  this 
morniijg  that  I  must  go  back  to  Glen.  I  have  some  im- 
portant business  to  attend  to  at  home." 

Slie  had  been  smiling  as  she  looked  over  the  engrav- 
ingo ;  but  her  face  changed  as  she  heard  the  words. 

*"  You  are  going,  Basil,"  she  said — "  leaving  us  ?  " 

A  quiver  of  pain  passed  over  her  face,  a  wistful  expres* 
sion  crept  into  her  eyes.  He  thought  to  himself,  if  the 
siiAy.'^  announcement  of  his  departure  for  a  few  days  couUl 
ca«se  her  such  pain,  what  would  have  happened  had  he 


226  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

lold  her  all  ?  He  could  not  be  cruel  to  her.  He  must  take 
care  that  she  never  knew,  never  suspected  the  truth.  He 
must  endeavor  to  make  her  happy,  although  he  could  never 
be  so.     How  well  she  loved  him — and,  oh,  the  pity  of  it  ? 

"Leah,"  he  said,  taking  her  hand  in  his,  "I  will  not 
talk  to  you  now.  The  general  told  me  that  you  will  not  re- 
main much  longer  at  Dene.  You  will  return  to  Brentwood 
in  a  few  days  :  and  then  you  will  let  me  speak  to  you  about 
our  marriage  ?  I  want  you  to  fix  a  date  for  it,  to  tell  me 
when  you  think  it  can  take  place.  It  seems  uncertain,  and 
I  am  tired  of  uncertainty." 

A  look  of  unutterable  relief  came  over  her  face.  Ah, 
Heaven  be  thanked  !  It  was  of  her,  of  their  marriage  and 
their  future,  that  he  had  been  thinking  lately  with  so  grave 
a  face.  A  great  tearless  sob  rose  to  her  lips — she  had 
been  so  unhappy  about  him,  and  all  without  reason ,  his 
silence  had  been  caused  only  by  his  anxious  thoughts  of 
her.  They  were  alone  in  the  drawing-room.  She  looked 
up  at  him,  all  the  love  that  filled  her  heart  shining  in  her 
dark  eyes.     She  put  one  fair  arm  around  his  neck. 

**  Basil,  I  have  been  so  unhappy  about  you,"  she  mur- 
mured. "People  said  that  you  looked  preoccupied  and 
dull.  I  could  see  for  myself  that  you  were  not  the  same ; 
and  I  wondered  if  you  had  ceased  to  love  me.'* 

"  Ceased  to  love  you,  Leah !  "  He  tried  to  speak  care- 
lessly, but  his  whole  frame  trembled  and  his  lips  grew  pale. 
"  Ceased  to  love  you  1  Leah,  tell  me  what  you  would  do  if 
that  happened." 

The  face  raised  to  his  was  full  of  earnestness  and  truth 

"  What  should  I  do  ? "  she  replied.  "  There  would  be 
but  one  thing  on  earth  for  me  to  do,  and  that  would  be  to 
die.  When  all  that  made  life  worth  living  was  gone,  how 
-could  I  live  ?  " 

"  Life  is  very  precious,"  he  said,  drawing  her  closer  to 
himself ;  "  and  it  is  not  easy  to  die." 


A  BROKEN'  WEDDINC-RTNO.  ^27 

•'  It  would  be  easy  for  me,"  she  declared.  "  I  have 
let  all  my  desires  and  interests  merge  themselves  in  yours. 
I  have  kept  back  nothing  for  myself,  not  even  one  thought 
of  my  heart." 

"  I  know  you  have  not,"  he  said,  touched  inexpressibly 
by  the  pathos  of  her  voice  and  face.  He  caressed  the 
dark  masses  of  hair,  and  the  girl's  whole  face  grew  radiant 
at  this  unexpected  indication  of  his  tenderness.  "  Leah," 
he  went  on,  thoughtfully,  "  I  am  the  last  one  to  preach  on 
such  subjects,  but  do  you  think  it  wise  for  any  one,  man  or 
woman,  to  become  so  completely  engrossed  in  his  or  her 
love?" 

"  No,  certainly  not,"  she  replied ;  **  I  do  not  think  it  wise ; 
but  there  are  some  who  cannot  help  it." 

"  You  have  given  me  your  heart,  your  love,  your  life. 
Suppose  it  should  be  the  will  of  Heaven  that  I  die — what 
then?" 

**  I  should  die  too,"  she  replied,  with  a  look  so  calm 
that  he  saw  she  would  find  nothing  to  repine  at  in  such  a 
fate.  "  I  have  my  own  ideas  about  true  love,"  she  added  ; 
**  and  ours  is  true  love,  Basil,  though  the  portion  of  it  that 
comes  to  us  in  this  life  is  smaller  than  that  which  I  feel 
assured  we  shall  enjoy  in  the  next.  And  you,  Basil,"  she 
asked,  looking  up  at  him  with  happy  eyes,  "  what  should 
you  do  if  I  died  ?  " 

Heaven  help  him !  He  hated  himself.  He  longed  for 
the  power  to  take  her  in  his  arms,  to  whisper  loving  words 
to  her,  to  kiss  her  lips,  to  make  her  happy  ;  but  he  could 
not — the  fair,  sweet  face  with  eyes  like  blue  hyacinths 
floated  between  them. 

"  I  cannot  tell,"  he  replied.  "  Men  are  so  unlike  women ; 
even  the  quality  of  their  love  is  different." 

"  One  thing,  I  am  sure,  would  never  happen  ;  you  would 
never  care  for  any  one  else,"  she  said,  with  the  implicit 
faith  of  a  loving  woman. 


J28  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

He  hated  himself  more  than  ever  as  the  words  fell  on 
his  ear. 

"  You  believe  in  constancy,  Leah  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  musingly.  "  I  cannot  imagine  any- 
thing so  terrible  as  losing  you ;  and  even  if  I  lived  after 
such  an  awful  calamity,  I  could  never  care  for  any  one 
save  you.  No  other  would  have  power  tb  interest  me.  I 
believe  in  one  love  and  no  more.'* 

"  If  she  knew,"  he  thought,  with  a  bitter  sigh.  "  Leah," 
he  said,  after  a  few  minutes'  silence,  "  could  anything  that 
I  might  ever  do  make  you  hate  me  ?  " 

"No,"  she  replied,  "nothing.  I  have  asked  myself 
that  question.  If  you  were  in  a  fellon's  cell  to-morrow,  I 
would  share  it  with  you.  I  would  go  to  the  scaffold  with 
you." 

"  Dear,"  he  said,  gently,  "  that  is  a  great  love,  but  is  it 
BOt  a  blind  love  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  answered ;  "  and  in  this  world  a  blind  love 
is  best.  You  have  made  me  very  happy,  Basil,"  she  con- 
tinued. "  During  these  evenings,  while  you  have  looked 
so  thoughtful,  I  have  watched  you  anxiously." 

"  Why  did  you  not  tell  me  that  you  were  troubled  ? "  he 
asked. 

"  I  did  not  like  to  do  so.  Although  I  know  how  much 
you  love  me,  Basil,  there  are  times  when  I  feel  timid  and 
almost  afraid  of  intruding  on  you." 

"  I  thought,"  he  said,  jestingly — only  too  pleased  to 
jest — "  that  in  perfect  love  there  was  no  fear  ? " 

"  There  is  fear  in  every  love,"  she  replied.  "  I  must 
know,  for  I  feel  mine  so  strongly.  Ah  !  me,  I  am  happy 
to-day,  Basil !  In  future,  when  you  look  thoughtful,  I  shall 
say  to  myself  that  you  are  thinking  of  me." 

She  raised  her  face  to  his ;  and,  bending  down,  he 
kissed  the  loving  lips  and  the  tears  from  the  happy  eyes. 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING'RINb  oj^ 

My  love,"  she  murmured,  "  I  could  almost  wish  to  die 
here  and  now,  while  I  am  sure  that  you  love  me." 

And  it  would  have  been  well  for  her  if  she  had  died. 

The  sound  of  her  voice,  the  clasp  of  her  arms,  the  kiss 
from  her  lips,  the  memory  of  her  loving  words,  went  with 
him  as  he  set  out  to  say  farewell  to  the  girl  he  loved.  Just 
that  one  half-hour  from  a  whole  lifetime  should  be  his.  He 
would  take  Hettie's  hand,  look  into  her  face,  and  say 
"  Good-by,"  never  to  meet  her  more,  his  first,  last  on*ly  love  . 
and  then  the  rest  of  his  life  should  be  given  to  duty. 

It  was  the  close  of  an  autumn  afternoon  when  he  sought 
Hettie  Ray.  The  light  was  dying  in  an  amber  sky  ;  and 
h-j  walked  with  swift  footsteps  upthcgreea  hill  that  he 
would  never  climb  again. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 


Hettie  Ray  was  watching  the  amber  light  The  king 
of  day  was  setting  in  royal  splendor.  He  had  donned  new 
colors  this  evening  ;  he  had  dispensed  with  crimson  ,and 
gold,  and  had  surrounded  himself  with  clouds  of  deep  am- 
ber and  purple — kingly  colors  that,  falling  upon  the  sea, 
gave  a  weird  gleam  to  the  waters.  The  light  of  a  daffodil 
sky  was  there  in  full  perfection,  but  the  green  earth  looked 
strange  under  it ;  a  curious  glow  lay  upon  the  hiils,  upon 
the  trees  and  the  grass.  To  Hettie's  loving  eyes  it  seemed 
as  though  Nature  were  waiting,  and  that,  when  the  sun  had 
set,  something  would  happen.  The  sun  was  sinking  lower 
and  lower ;  the  amber  clouds  seemed  to  touch  the  water's 
edge.  From  the  waves  on  the  shore  came  a  musicai  mur- 
mur, from  the  birds  in  the  trees  an  evening  hymn.  Hettie, 
in  her  old  seat  by  the  ivy-covered  wall,  was  tranquilly 
watching  the  lovely  scene. 


830  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

Her  father  had  fallen  asleep.  He  was  very  ill,  and 
she  was  anxious  about  him.  She  had  decided  that  if  he 
were  not  better  on  the  morrow  she  would  call  in  a  doctor. 
She  had  been  up  with  him  all  night,  and  she  had  been  hard 
at  work  all  day ;  she  was  tired  and  anxious — yet  there  was 
a  look  of  happiness  on  her  fair  face.  In  the  midst  of  the 
gloom  and  the  darkness  there  was  a  ray  of  light  for  her — 
the  handsome  young  stranger  whom  her  father  called 
*'Gien"  loved  her;  she  felt  sure  of  it.  She  was  so  shy,  so 
modest,  so  completely  without  vanity  or  coquetry,  so  simple 
and  sweet-,  in  her  busy  life  she  had  had  but  little  time  to 
think  of  love  and  lovers.  Deep  in  her  heart  lay  a  dim 
vague  knowledge,  half  hope,  half  fear,  that  some  day  or 
other  this  beautiful  dream  would  come  to  her. 

She  could  not  be  unhappy  while  thoughts  of  "  Glen  " 
pierced  the  gloom.  All  the  fatigue  of  the  night  and  the 
labor  of  the  day  had  been  as  nothing  to  her,  because 
of  her  thoughts  of  him.  She  did  not  own  to  herself  that 
she  loved  him  and  was  ready  to  give  her  love  unsought  ; 
but  she  knew  that  if  he  loved  her,  as  she  had  now  some 
reason  to  believe  he  did,  she  would  be  the  happiest  girl  on 
earth.  How  handsome  he  was,  how  noble,  how  good  ! 
What  a  knightly  face  was  his,  what  a  courtly  manner  !  She 
could  understand  now  the  true  meaning  of  the  word  "  gentle- 
man." And,  while  she  was  thinking  of  him,  while  the  am- 
ber clouds  rested  on  the  water,  he  stood  suddenly  by  her 
side.  No  rose  ever  blushed  more  sweetly;  her  whole 
face  changed ;  her  eyes  welcomed  him,  and  said  what  her 
lips  could  not  utter. 

"  How  strange  !  "  she  said.  "  I  was  just  thinking  of 
you." 

He  longed  to  tell  her  that  there  was  no  moment,  night 
or  day,  in  which  he  was  not  thinking  of  her,  but  he  re- 
strained himself.  He  was  there  to  say  good-by.  He 
might  wait  a  few  moments.      He  was  on  the  brink  :  let 


A  BROKEN'  WEDDING-RING.  331 

i...*  pause  there,  let  him  stand  by  her  in  silence  for  the 
last  time  and  watch  the  waves  breaking  on  the  sands. 

"  I  was  thinking  of  you,"  repeated  Hettie.  "  I  knew 
that  you  would  come." 

"  I  have  a  motive  in  coming,"  he  said.  *'  I  will  tell 
you  presently  what  it  is.  Let  us  watch  the  setting  of  the 
sun  together." 

He  knew  that  the  sun  of  his  life  would  set  with  it ;  he 
felt  somewhat  like  a  soldier  who,  condemned  to  be  shot  for 
some  act  of  insubordination,  stands  by  the  side  of  his  own 
open  grave.  "  When  the  sun  has  set,  I  shall  have  told 
her,  and  I  shall  have  gone  too,"  he  said  to  himself.  He 
bent  his  pale,  troubled  face  over  the  glossy  ivy. 

Hettie  looked  more  fair  and  seraphic  than  ever,  feeling 
sure  that  he  had  come  to  tell  her  that  he  loved  her — she 
had  seen  it  in  his  face  on  the  previous  night.  She  folded 
her  white  hands,  and  they  stood  side  by  side  in  perfect 
silence  while  the  sun  set.  As  it  seemed  to  touch  the  water's 
edge,  the  clouds  turned  crimson.  The  change  was  so 
quick  and  so  marvellous,  it  was  as  though  the  restless  heav- 
ing sea  was  suddenly  covered  with  flame. 

^^  Look,"  cried  Hettie — "  how  beautiful  !  "  For  with 
the  roselights  came  shadows  of  the  richest  purple.  The 
sun  seemed  to  sink  into  the  water  :  the  day  was  dead. 

Sir  Basil  turned  to  her,  wondering  in  his  own  misery 
at  the  light  on  her  fair  face. 

**  I  came  to  tell  you  something,  Miss  Ray,"  he  said. 
•*  I  know  it  will  interest  you.     I  am  going  away."         * 

He  purposely  avoided  looking  at  her.  If  he  had  seen 
the  sudden  change  in  her  face,  the  deep  anguish,  he  would 
not  have  gone  at  all.  She  made  him  no  answer,  for  the 
simple  reason  that  her  lips  had  suddenly  grown  mute. 

"  I  have  business  that  compels  me  to  leave,"  he  said, 
•*  and  I  come  to  say  good-I^y  fo-night.*' 

The  western  wind  seemed  to  grow  chili,      Hettie'9 


232  .  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

heart  was  heavy  with  pain  and  fear.  He  had  been  so 
much. to  her,  and  her  hfe  was  so  cheerless.  She  thougni 
of  her  sick  father  and  her  hard  work,  of  her  joyless,  iove- 
less  life  that  he  had  so  suddenly  brightened.  She  thougnt 
of  the  happiness  that  had  been  hers  so  short  a  time,  and 
then,  with  a  passionate  burst  of  tears,  she  cried, — 

"  Do  not  go  away  !  " 

"  I  must,"  he  said,  briefly.  **  There  is  no  choice  lett 
to  me.     I  must  go." 

He  saw  the  fair  head  bent  until  it  rested  on  the  ivy^ 
leaves.  He  was  only  human,  and  he  could  bear  no  more. 
He  drew  closer  to  her. 

"  Hettie,"  he  said — **  let  me  call  you  Hettie  for  tne 
first  and  last  time — tell  me,  why  do  you  shed  these  tears  ? 
Are  they  for  me  ?  " 

"  I  am  sorry  you  are  going,"  she  sobbed. 

"  Are  you  really  so  grieved  as  this  ?  "  he  asked.  **  Ofi. 
Hettie,  can  it  be  true  ?  What  am  I  to  you  ?  Why  should 
you  care  ?  '* 

**  It  is  quite  true  that  you  are  nothing  to  me,  ^ut  vou 
have  been  kind  to  me,  and  my  I'fe  is  so  lonely.'* 

His  heart  beat  fast  with  the  gi'jatness  of  his  temptation. 
It  was  stirred  to  its  very  depths  by  her  fair  loveliness,  her 
love,  and  her  bitter  tears.  He  constrained  himself  with  a 
desperate  effort — "  Death  before  dishonor  !  "  Great 
drops  stood  upon  his  brow,  and  his  limbs  trembled.  Ths 
mad  thought  come  into  his  mind  :  if  but  for  once  he 
might  take  her  in  his  arms,  kiss  her  face,  and  die  ! 

"  I  am  glad  to  have  been  able  in  some  small  way  to 
comfort  you,  Hettie,"  he  said  ;  but  the  restraint  he  placed 
upon  himself  was  so  great  that  his  voice  sounded  stern  and 
even  harsh. 

*•  Perhaps,"  she  said,  looking  up  at  him  through  hef 
tears  ^*  you  will  come  again  ;  You  have  been  interested 
in  my  poor  father.     You  have  enjoyed  your  visits  to  our 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  233 

home.  You  seem  to  have  no  enforced  occupation,  and  to 
be  able  to  please  yourself.     You  will  come  again  ?  " 

"  He  could  hear  how  her  breath  caught  at  every  word. 
There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  tell  her  the  truth,  and  then 
she  would  see  that  he  must  go.  The  autumn  wind 
moaned  ;  all  the  light  had  gone  with  the  sun  ;  a  gray 
shade  had  crept  over  the  sea  ;  the  waves  rose  and  fell 
with  a  mournful  wail  which  was  the  forerunner  of  a 
storm. 

"  Hettie,  I  will  tell  you  the  truth,"  he  said.  "  Strange 
that  tnere  should  be  a  scene  like  this  between  us — who 
were  strangers  some  weeks  since — and  you  do  not  even 
know  my  name.** 

•*  No.**  she  said  ;  I  have  never  heard  it.  My  father 
always  calls  vou  Glen.  It  is  singular,  but  in  that  first  hour 
that  we  talked  together  I  felt  as  though  I  had  known  and 
trusted  vou  all  mv  life.'* 

"  1  need  never  tell  you  my  name,  Hettie.  We  must 
part  to-niffht,  and  we  must  never  meet  again.  Do  not  cry, 
Ctear.     It  is  Harder  for  me  than  for  you.'* 

She  ciuns;  to  his  arm,  still  weeping.  He  felt  the  quick 
bcanng  uT  her  heart,  and  he  stopped  yet  another  minute 
herons  ne  said  the  fatal  words  which  must  part  them  for 
ever.  He  felt  in  that  moment  that,  if  this  grief  of  hers 
were  caused  by  him,  he  deserved  any  punishment. 

"  Hettie,  listen  to  me,  dear.  How  we  hav.e  drifted  into 
this  matters  but  little,  whether  I  have  been  blind  or 
careless  matters  less  ;  the  fault  must  be  mine.  I  ought  to 
have  resisted  the  first  temptation.  After  I  had  seen  you 
that  first  time  in  church,  I  ought  never  to  have  seen  you 
again.     My  sense,  my  honor,  my  conscience,  tell  me  so." 

*'  But  why  ?  "  she  cried,  in  amazement.  "  I  do  not 
understand  you.     Tell  me  why." 

**  Because  I  am  engaged  to  be  married-,  because  I  a« 


234  ^  BROKEN  WEDDTNG-RING, 

bound  by  the  most  solemn  pledge  ;  and,  because  of  this 
promise,  I  must  go." 

"  Why,"  she  said,  in  a  faint,  low  voice —  "  why  must 
you  go  ?  If  it  be  some  one  who  loves  you,  and  some  one 
whom  you  love  very  much,  surely  she  would  be  kind,  and 
let  you  stay — at  least,  while  my  father  is  so  ill.  If  he  were 
well,  it  would  all  be  different." 

"  Hettie,"  he  said,  "  I  will  trust  you  as  I  have  never 
trusted  even  my  own  heart  yet.  I  will  say  to  you  what  I 
have  never  admitted  even  to  my  own  thoughts.  I — ah  \ 
liow  shall  I  tell  you  ?  My  engagement  was  less  my  own 
voluntary  seeking  than  the  consequence  of  circumstances. 
1  can  never  explain.  I  did  not  understand  the  nature  oi 
the  power  of  love — I  knew  nothing  of  it  ;  but  she  whom  \ 
-Km.  to  marry  loves  me.  Every  arrangement  is  made  foi 
uur  marriage  ;  and— oh,  Hettie,  listen  to  me  ! — she  loves 
me,  and,  if  we  were  parted,  she  would  die.  She  could  not 
grieve  over  it  and  recover  ;  she  would  die.  I  must  marry 
her  ;  I  am  bound  in  honor  and  in  conscience.  And  let 
me  tell  you  my  mad  folly.  I  have  learned  to  love  you.  I 
do  love  you.  I  may  say  it  for  the  first  and  last  time  in  my 
life.  I  love  you  with  the  whole  love  of  my  life,  with  the 
one  love  of  my  manhood.  I  may  live  many  years,  but  I 
shall  never  love  any  other  woman.  If  Heaven  helps  me, 
I  will  do  my  duty  ;  but  my  happiness  dies  in  the  hour  I  leave 
you.     Now  you  see  that  I  must  go." 

Her  head  drooped  until  it  lay  upon  his  shoulder,  and 
she  whispered  something  there — words  that  were  both  life 
and  death  to  him. 

"  Yes,  you  must  go,"  she  said  ;  "  I  see  it  plainly 
There  is  no  help  for  it  ;  you  must  go." 

He  wished  that  he  were  lying  under  the  gray  water, 
dead  ;  the  pain  seemed  greater  than  he  could  bear.  Then 
her  soft  whispered  words  came  to  him  again. 

**  It  will  be  the  one  dream,  the  one  memory  of  my  life,* 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING*  335 

she  said.  "  On  the  shore  of  this  sweet  southern  sea  I 
have  lived  and  died.  Do  many  people  throw  away  their 
lives  like  this  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  tell,"  he  replied,  drearily,  "  nor  can  I  tell 
why  Pate  has  treated  us  so  cruelly.  If  I  had  been  free 
when  I  met  you,  Hettie,  you  are  the  one  woman  I  should 
have  chosen  to  be  my  wife." 

*'  And  I,"  she  said,  in  a  voice  sweeter  than  the  cooing 
Df  dove — "  I  should  have  loved  you." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  went  on  Sir  Basil,  "  as  though  we 
stood  on  either  side  of  an  open  grave." 

"  That  which  divides  us  is  deeper  than  a  grave,"  he 
said,  with  a  slight  shudder.  "  I  shall  never  hear  the 
sound  of  the  waves  again  withbut  thinking  of  this." 

"  Nor  shall  I.  A  man  should  be  ashamed  to  confess 
cowardice  ;  but  I  own  to  you,  Hettie,  I  hardly  know  how 
^o  take  up  the  burden  of  life  again." 

The  sweet  whispered  words  gave  him  strength, 

"  We  shall  pass  out  of  each  other's  life,"  she  said. 
*  Even  that  will  be  better  than  meeting  always  to  suffer 
pain.    After  to-night,  we  shall  see  each  other  no  more." 

"  It  seems  hard,'*  he  cried,  bitterly,  setting  his  teeth 
with  the  air  of  a  desperate  man,  "  though  it  is  better  for 
you  and  better  for  me  that  it  should  be  so." 

Then,  as  he  was  leaving  her  for  ever,  the  temptation 
became  too  great.  He  clasped  his  arms  round  her,  and 
gathered  her  to  his  heart.  Once,  twice,  thrice  he  kissed 
her  pale,  sweet  face,  as  one  kisses  the  face  of  the  best- 
beloved  before  the  coffin-lid  is  closed.  In  silence  then  he 
put  her  away  from  him  ;  in  silence  she  sat  where  he  had 
left  her  ;  and  he  went  away  over  the  great  hill,  which  rose 
like  a  huge  barrier  between  himself  and  that  which  WM 
dearest  to  him  on  earth. 


aj6  ^  SROK&N  W£DDlNG'RlNQn 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

The  party  at  Dene  Abbey  broke  up.  Sir  Basil  went 
home  to  Glen,  where  he  resolved  to  devote  himself  to  work, 
in  order  to  drive  far  from  him  all  memories  of  the  night 
that  stood  out,  a  clear  and  distinct  picture,  from  the  re- 
mainder of  his  life.  The  other  guests  departed  to  different 
parts  of  the  kingdom.  The  duke  and  duchess  went  on  the 
Continent ;  Sir  Arthur  Hatton  and  his  beautiful  niece  re- 
turned to  Brentwood. 

The  duchess,  who  had  a  warm  and  sincere  affection 
for  Leah,  was  troubled  about  her.  She  could  not  help 
suspecting  that  something  was  wrong  between  the  lovers, 
for  she  had  seen  Sir  Basil,  on  the  evening  before  he  left, 
with  such  a  strange  expression  on  his  face.  But  then 
Leah  seemed  happy.  The  duchess,  than  whom  no  more 
kindly  woman  ever  lived,  decided  that,  if  she  were  in  the 
general's  place,  she  should  hurry  on  the  marriage.  She 
had  an  uncomfortable  feeling  that  something  unpleasant 
would  happen  if  this  were  not  done. 

As  for  Lead,  her  fears  and  forebodings  had  vanished. 
Basil,  of  his  own  free  will,  had  returned  to  Glen  in  order 
to  hasten  the  preparations  for  their  marriage.  That  being 
the  case,  she  could  hardly  charge  him  with  want  of  love  ; 
she  had  made  herself  unhappy  with  fancies.  When  the 
Duchess  of  Rosedene  had  said  good-by  to  her,  she  had 
added  :  "  I  shall  be  back  for  your  marriage,  Leah,  in  the 
spring  ;  not  all  the  lions  of  Europe  would  keep  me  from 
that."     Leah's  lovely  face  had  brightened  at  the  words. 

The  time  was  drawing  near  now  in  which  she  would  be 
united  for  evermore  to  the  one  man  wnom  she  loved  so 
passionately,    A  few  more  weeks  of  the  changing  autumn, 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  237 

and  then  would  come  winter;  the  spring  would  soon 
follow,  and  then  there  would  be  no  more  parting,  no  more 
sorrow.  They  would  be  together  until  Death  divided 
them. 

During  these  days  the  memory  of  her  sister  grew  less 
clear  and  distinct  to  Leah ;  the  past  was  like  a  dream  to 
her — she  lived  entirely  in  the  present,  father,  sisters,  the 
many  places  she  had  called  home,  the  troubles  and  humilia- 
tions of  her  early  life,  had  faded  away.  Leah  Ray,  who 
was  to  have  been  a  "  female  lecturer,"  "  a  prophetess 
among  the  people,"  and  Leah  Hatton,  the  famous  beauty 
and  heiress,  were  two  very  different  people. 

The  general  had  told  her  to  spare  no  expense.  She 
was  to  have  a  trousseau  fit  for  a  queen.  The  fortune  that 
Sir  Arthur  had  given  to  her  was  to  be  made  her  own  by 
marriage  deeds  and  settlements.  From  all  these  splendors 
Leah  would  steal  away  to  look  at  what  was  most  precious 
to  her — the  golden  wedding-ring  lying  in  the  little  morocco 
case ;  the  ring  that  had  been  taken  from  so  many  dead 
fingers,  that  had  held  so  many  living  hopes,  and  that  she 
was  to  wear  for  the  rest  of  her  life.  She  cared  more  for 
that  solitary  treasure  than  for  all  else  that  belonged  to 
her. 

As  they  journeyed  home  from  Dene  to  Brentwood,  Sir 
Arthur  saw  more  clearly  than  ever  how  entirely  his  niece's 
heart  was  given  to  Sir  Basil.  He  was  even  amused,  al- 
though he  did  his  best  to  hide  his  amusement.  No  matter 
on  what  subject  the  conversation  began,  it  turned  always 
to  Sir  Basil.  He  might  discuss  the  autumn  woods,  the  old 
gray  churches,  the  pretty  homesteads,  anything  and  every 
thing  but  she  managed  always  to  bring  Sir  Basil  in  at 
the  end.  He  laughed  quietly  to  himself,  thinking  the  ways 
of  lovers  very  wonderful  ways. 

*'  Do  you  think  Sir  Basil  will  come  over  to  Brertwood 
to-night  ? "  was  the  most  eager  question  she  asked. 


fc^  A  BROKEN  WEDDINe^RTKQ^, 

"  How  long  has  he  been  away  1  "  said  the  general. 

"  Four  days,"  replied  Leah. 

**  Then  I  should  say  most  decidedly  that  we  shall  find 
him  waiting  for  us  at  the  station." 

He  was  right.  Sir  Basil  had  ridden  over  to  the  station 
at  Arley,  intending  to  go  back  with  them  to  Brentwood. 

There  is  surely  nothing  so  pathetic  as  a  great  love^ 
nothing  so  beautiful  or  so  sad.  Leah's  face  was  a  picture 
to  see  when  her  eyes  fell  on  her  lover. 

Sir  Basil  had  resolved  to  do  his  best.  There  should 
be  no  more  loitering  in  the  pleasant  paths  of  temptation  for 
him.  He  would  honestly  try  to  make  the  girl  who  loved 
him  happy.  When  between  her  brilliant,  beautiful  face 
and  his  own  there  rose  the  shadow  of  a  pale,  sweet  face 
drowned  in  tears,  he  turned  resolutely  away  ;  he  would  not 
see  it. 

Leah  thought  that  he  looked  very  ill,  pale,  worn,  and 
exhausted. 

"  You  wanted  me  tt)  take  care  of  you,"  she  said. 
"  What  have  you  been  doing  to  yourself,  Basil  }  I  shall 
not  let  you  leave  us  again.  You  look  as  though  you  had 
been  ill. 

"I  am  well  enough,  Leah  ;  you  need  not  be  anxious 
about  me,  I  have  been  busy.  I  find  that  it  does  not  do  to 
be  long  from  home.  My  land-stewai  \  is  one  of  the  best 
men  I  could  have  for  my  purpose  ;  but  there  is  no  man 
living  can  take  the  whole  responsibility  of  an  estate  froiu 
its  owner.  I  am  glad  you  have  returned,  Leah  ;  now  we 
shall  have  some  weeks,  at  least,  of  peace." 

He  spoke  in  the  tone  and  with  the  manner  of  one  tried 
beyond  endurance  ;  and  again  it  struck  Leah  how  strangely 
and  sadly  he  was  altered. 

There  was  a  warm  welcome  for  the  travellers  at  Brent- 
wood ;  every  one  seemed  delighted.  The  household  were 
aJl  in  grand  array,   ready  to  receive  them  \  the  fine  old 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  235 

mansion  seemed  to  have  put  on  its  brightest  look  to  wel- 
come them.  Then  Sir  Arthur,  Leah,  and  Sir  Basil  sat 
down  to  dinner.  They  found  it  a  great  change  from  the 
large  party  that  had  gathered  round  the  dinner-table  at 
D^ne  Abbey. 

-  Alter  all,"  said  the  general,  "  it  is  impossible  to 
live  in  a  crowd.     One  requires  quiet  every  now  and  then." 

On  this  occasion  Leah  looked  more  lovely,  in  Sir 
Arthur's  eyes,  than  she  had  ever  looked  in  her  magnificent 
toilets  at  Dene.  She  wore  a  dress  of  rich,  white  lace,  with 
ribbons  of  pale  lemon  color,  a  magnificent  pomegranate 
blossom  in  her  dark  hair,  and  in  the  bodice  of  her  dress— 
a  toilet  that  suited  her  to  perfection.  She  had  never 
looked  happier.  The  sense  of  being  at  home  again,  the 
fact  of  having  Basil  with  her,  of  knowing  that  he  had  been 
working  hard  so  as  tor  bring  the  time  of  their  marriage 
nearer,  the  recollection  that  she  should  not  leave  Brent- 
wood again  until  she  left  it  as  his  wife — all  these  things 
made  her  wonderfully  and  unutterably  happy. 

Sir  Basil's  heart  was  moved  when  he  looked  at  her  ; 
she  so  well  deserved  the  greatest  love  that  any  man  could 
give  her.  And  he  "i  Ah,  if  Heaven  would  but  take  from 
him  the  memory  of  the  pale  sweet  face  drowned  in  tears  I 
If  he  could  forget  that  for  one  half-hour  in  his  life  he  had 
known  what  true  happiness  was  ! 

After  dinner,  under  the  pretense  of  looking  at  an  ac- 
cumulation of  business  letters,  but  in  reality  to  indulge  in 
ten  minutes'  slumber,  the  general  went  for  half  an  hour  to 
his  study,  and  Leah  and  Sir  Basil  were  left  together.  A 
sense  of  the  cruel  wrong  that  a  loveless  marriage  would  be 
to  her,  came  over  the  baronet  ;  and  he  vowed  to  himself 
that  he  would  make  amends  to  her  by  increased  kindness, 
by  studying  her  wishes  in  every  way.  He  little  dreamed 
how  keenly  and  clearly  the  eyes  of  love  saw.  He  would 
put  an  end  to  all  doubts  at  once  ;  better  a  thousand 


2  4©  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

times  to  fix  his  chain  so  tightly  that  he  could  not  even 
move  it. 

Leah  was  standing  against  the  carved  mantel-piece  in 
the  drawing-room  ;  a  bright  fire  burned  in  the  grate,  the 
lamps  were  lighted,  and  a  half-golden  radiance  from  them 
filled  the  room  and  fell  on  the  queenly  head  with  its  crown 
of  rich  dark  hair,  on  the  beautiful  face  that  was  transfig- 
ured with  love  and  happiness,  and  on  the  white  graceful 
throat  and  rounded  arms.  The  fine  white  lace  swept  the 
floor.  A  prince  might  have  been  proud  to  woo  this  girl 
for  his  wife  ;  her  beauty  and  grace  would  have  charmed 
any  man.  Perhaps,  out  of  the  whole  wide  world,  this  man 
who  was  to  marry  her  was  the  only  one  who  would  have 
fooked  on  her  loveliness  without  emotion. 

He  went  up  to  her,  and  put  his  arm  round  her  waist. 
He  was  not  given  to  caressing,  and  Leah  raised  her  face 
with  an  expression  of  half-amused  wonder. 

"  I  want  to  ask  you  a  question,  Leah,"  he  said,  gently, 
"  What  day  shall  we  choose  for  our  wedding-day  ?  \ 
shall  leave  it  entirely  to  you,  dear,"  he  continued.  "  We 
arranged  that  the  wedding  should  take  place  in  the  spring 
— in  what  month  shall  it  be  ?  '* 

Something  in  his  tone  arrested  her  attention  ;  his  voice 
was  not  musical  with  love,  but  earnest,  as  though  he 
weighed  each  syllable.  She  looked  at  him  keenly  ;  he 
was  calm,  with  a  thoughtful  expression  on  his  face  ;  there 
was  no  rapture,  no  warmth.  She  could  not  tell  why,  but 
in  that  moment  her  heart  chilled  ;  then  she  reproached 
herself  for  it.  He  could  give  her  no  greater  proof  of  love 
than  this — that  he  asked  her  to  be  his  wife.  Why  should 
she  find  fault  with  the  manner  of  his  asking  ?  Yet  she 
wished  that  there  had  been  more  passion  in  his  words. 

"  May  marriages  are  unlucky,  so  people  say,"  he  con- 
tinued. "  The  violets  bloom  and  the  trees  begin  to  bud 
in  April.     Shall  it  be  in  April,  Leah  ?  *' 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  241 

She  put  her  arms  around  his  neck  and  raised  her  face 
to  his  ;  the  love  that  shone  in  her  eyes  might  have  melted 
a  heart  of  stone. 

**  Are  you  quite  sure  that  you  wish  it  then,  Basil  ?  " 
she  asked,  anxiously. 

"  I  am  quite  sure,"  he  replied,  with  more  firmness  and 
greater  tenderness. 

"  Then  it  shall  be  just  as  you  will,**  she  replied  ;  and 
they  parted  that  night  with  the  distinct  understanding  that 
the  marriage  was  to  take  place  in  April. 

'*  You  have  the  wedding-ring,  Leah  ? "  said  Sir  Basil. 

"  Yes,  I  have  it  in  sate-keeping,"  she  replied,  with  a 
happy  smile.  ^ 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 


So  the  wedding-day  was  fixed,  and  in  Leah's  future 
there  did  not  seem  to  be  one  cloud.  Any  one,  on  hearing 
of  what  awaited  her,  would  have  pronounced  her  to  be  one 
of  the  happiest  girls  on  whom  the  sun  shone.  Beauty, 
riches,  honor,  love — every  gift  with  which  life  and  fortune 
can  crown  their  favorites  was  hers. 

There  were  times  when  she  forgot  all  her  troubles,  both 
past  and  present,  when  the  faint  shadows  died,  and  the 
sun  of  her  love  and  happiness  shone  out  in  full  and  per- 
fect day  ;  then  again  the  clouds  o-f  doubt  gathered,  and  her 
disturbing  fancies  took  tangible  shape. 

But  in  April,  with  the  snowdrops  and  viole*-s,  with  the 
springing  leaves  and  the  song  of  the  birds,  would  come  her 
wedding-day,  she  said  to  herself.  Sir  Basil  mu^t  love  her, 
or  he  would  not  ask  her  to  be  his  wife.  He  was  not  marry- 
ing her  for  beauty  j  he  had  seen  fairer  women.    It  was 


242  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

not  for  her  wealth ;  he  was  rich  enough  himself.  It  could 
be  for  nothing  but  love.  To  her  own  heart  she  said  ttiat 
she  would  be  happy  ;  she  would  trample  under  foot  all  her 
fancies  and  thoughts,  "  vague  ideas  that  knew  no  form," 
and  give  herself  up  to  happiness  which  should  have  in  it 
no  alloy. 

A  week  later  Sir  Basil  drove  over  to  Brentwood  to  con« 
suit  Leah  about  the  colors  and  decorations  for  her  boudoir, 
in  every  detail  he  showed  the  strongest  desire  to  please 
her.  What  he  did  not  give  her  in  devoted  or  passionate 
love,  he  gave  her  in  unremitting  attention. 

Glen  was  in  the  hands  of  the  decorators.  It  was  many 
years  since  the  interior  had  been  renovated,  and  Sir  Basil 
had  determined  that  it  should  be  a  fitting  shrine  for  the 
beautiful  woman  who  was  to  be  its  mistress.  The  room 
that  was  to  be  so  essentially  her  own,  her  boudoir,  he  was 
interested  in  above  all.  He  had  laughed  when  the  manager 
from  the  well-known  firm  of  Clough  &  Hewson  had  waited 
upon  him,  and,  after  some  little  preliminaries  had  said 
that  he  should  be  grateful  if  he  could  see  the  portrait  or 
have  some  slight  description  of  the  lady  who  was  to  pre- 
side  over  the  room. 

*'  No  matter  how  beautiful  the  coloring  of  a  room  may 
be,"  he  said,  "  if  it  does  not  harmonize  with  the  lady  for 
whose  use  it  is,  all  the  beauty  is  in  vain.  With  walls  of 
the  most  delicate  amber,  a  blonde  lady  would  be  out  of 
harmony  altogether." 

Sir  Basil  smiled  and  nodded  a'^provingly. 

"  The  lady  who  is  to  inhabit  this  particular  room  is  a 
brunette,"  he  said. 

The  manager  bowed  with  a  gratified  air. 

"  You  §ee,  sir,"  he  said,  "  the  coloring  of  a  room  is  like 
the  background  of  a  picture."  And  Sir  Basil  had  been  so 
struck  with  the  words  that  he  had  driven  over  to  see  Leah 
upon  the  point. 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  243 

It  was  a  fir>e  morning,  and  he  found  his  fiancee  in  the 
large  conservatory,  to  which  an  aviary  was  attached.  She 
was  feeding,  some  favorite  birds  of  hers — birds  of  bright- 
hued  plumage.  He  was  a  lover  of  beauty,  and  he  felt  that 
it  would  scarcely  be  possible  to  find  a  fairer  picture  than 
ihis  peerless  girl  in  her  simple  morning  dress  of  white. 
The  background  of  rich  flowers  and  foliage  threw  into  bold 
relief  the  faultless  lines  of  the  graceful  figure,  even  as  the 
white  hands  looked  like  snow  among  the  bright-colored 
hues.  He  could  not  help  admiring  her  and  telling  himself 
that  this  peerless  woman  was  his.  There  was  more  tender- 
ness in  the  kiss  he  gave  her  than  there  had  ever  been  in 
any  caress  of  his  before. 

At  any  sign  of  love  from  him  Leah*s  heart  thrilled 
with  happiness  ;  and  now  her  face  brightened  suddenly,  as 
a  gray  landscape  becomes  golden  under  the  light  of  the 
sun. 

"  I  have  ridden  over  this  morning,"  he  said,  "on  very 
important  business.  The  decorators  are  awaiting  instruc- 
tions concerning  your  boudoir.  I  want  you  to  choose  the 
colors  yourself ;  I  will  have  no  other  taste  consulted  but 
your  own." 

"  I  saw  a  very  pretty  boudoir  at  Lady  Daventry's  last 
year,"  she  answered.  "  It  was  all  white,  and  paneled  in 
gold.  The  hangings  were  of  white  satin  with  heavy  gold 
fringe  and  tassels ;  the  carpet  was  of  thick  white  velvety 
and  the  couches  and  chairs  were  covered  with  white  satin. 
If  you  wish  me  to  consult  my  own  taste,  Basil,  I  should 
like  the  same." 

*'  Nothing  could  be  more  beautiful,"  he  said.  **  How 
rooms  after  a  time,  seem  to  partake  of  the  characters  of 
those  who  live  in  them  !  I  was  looking  round  Glen  this 
morning,  and  trying  to  picture  you  as  you  will  be  when 
you  are  mistress  there.  I  could  fancy  you  sweeping  through 
the  broad  corridors  and  up  the  marble  staircase — that 


244-  "^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

staircase,  by  the  way,  is  the  most  precious  thing  we  have 
at  Glen  ;  I  fancied  you  standing  in  the  drawing-room,  re- 
ceiving visitors  with  the  same  grace  as  here.  I  went  pur- 
posely into  the  breakfast-room  that  I  might  try  to  imagine 
what  it  would  be  like  when  your  dear  face  shone  there, 
V  hen,  morning  after  morning,  I  should  see  you  there  op- 
posite to  me.  I  thought  of  the  months  and  years  that 
would  pass  while  we  should  be  together.  I  wondered 
what  life  would  bring  to  us,  Leah.  There  is  no  limit  to 
thought,"  he  continued.  "  I  tried  to  foresee  what  the 
coming  years  would  be  like,  Leah — if  ever,  as  they  passed 
we  should  have  little  quarrels,  little  coolnesses,  as  other 
people  do.'* 

"  Never  my  love — never ! "  she  said.  "  My  will  must 
always  submit  to  yours." 

"  I  wondered  if  we  should  like  the  same  people,  make  the 
same  friends,  share  the  same  tastes.  A  whole  life  seemed 
tc  pass  in  review  before  me.  Then  I  wondered  if  either 
one  or  the  other  would  be  stricken  down  by  dangerous 
illness,  and  which  would  die  first." 

"  I  hav^  often  wondered  which  of  us  would  die  first, 
Basil,"  she  said,  clinging  to  him  as  though  not  even  death 
should  take  him  away. 

"  Leah,"  he  said  suddenly,  "  have  you  seen  a  beautiful 
little  poem  called  *An  Untimely  Thought  ? '  It  is  sup- 
posed to  be  written  by  a  husband  waiting  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs  while  his  wife  puts  the  last  finishing  stroke  to  her 
toilet.    He  wonders  when  and  where  he  shall  die, 

"  *  I  wonder  what  day  of  the  week  ? 

I  wonder  what  month  of  the  year^ 
Will  it  be  midnight  or  morning  ? 
And  who  will  bend  over  my  bier  V 

^  *  What  a  hideous  fancy  to  come 

As  I  wait  at  the  foot  of  the  stair* 
While  Lilian  gives  the  last  touch  ■? 

To  her  robe  cr  the  rose  in  her  hairt 


A  BROKEN-  WEDDING-RING.  ^^ 

^*  Do  I  like  yoQT  new  dress—Pompadour^ 
And  do  I  like  you  ?    On  ray  life, 
You  are  eighteen,  and  not  a  day  more. 
And  have  not  been  six  years  my  wiiet 

** '  Those  two  rosy  boys  in  the  crib  ♦ 

Upstairs  are  not  ours  to  be  sure! 
You  are  just  a  sweet  bride  in  her  bloom. 
All  sunshine  and  snowy  and  pure, 

•"  As  the  carriage  rolls  down  the  dark  streets 

The  httle  wife  laughs  and  makes  cheer  j 
But  ....  I  wonder  what  day  of  the  week  f 
I  wonder  what  month  of  the  year? *  '* 

Leah  listened  attentively. 

*'  It  is  very  sad  and  very  sweet,  Basil,  Ah,  it  h  a  ter* 
rible  thing — death  !  To  think  that  nothing  in  the  world 
can  save  one  from  it,  neither  wealth,  nor  love,  nor " 

"  Ara  you  afraid  of  death  ?  "he  interrupted. 

"  Yes,  I  am — perhaps  more  than  most  people.  When 
I  was  a  little  child,  I  was  taken  to  Westminister  Abbey,  and 
was  left  alone  amid  the  monuments  until  my  friend  came 
back  for  me.  One  struck  me  so  much,  Basil.  I  forget  the 
name  of  the  persons  in  memory  of  whom  it  has  been  erected  ; 
I  remember  only  the  subject — a  young  and  beautiful  wife 
clasped  in  her  husband's  arms,  and  Death,  in  terrible  guise, 
trying  to  snatch  her  from  him  anC.  drag  her  into  his  hideous 
den.  I  was  greatly  impressed  witn  it.  Child  as  I  was,  i 
thought  how  horrible,  how  strong  death  must  be,  when  ever?, 
the  love  of  her  husband  could  not  keep  a  wife  safe  in  his 
arms.  I  think  that  was  the  first  time  I  ever  felt  afraid  of 
death.  Oh,  Basil,  now  that  I  am  so  happy,  I  do  not  want 
to  die  I " 

"My  dearest  Leah,  I  hope  there  is  no  question  of  it. 
What  makes  you  think  and  speak  of  death,  when  I  have 
come  purposely  to  tell  you  about  our  home  ?  " 

"It  is  your  fault,"  she  replied,  half  laughingly.  "You 
would  recite  those  lines,  and  you  wondered  which  would 
die  first." 


P46  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

"  Well,  if  I  am  to  blame,  I  will  soon  make  amends  by 
changing  the  conversation." 

She  was  looking  at  him  with  grave  sweet  eyes. 
,  *'  Basil,"  she  said,  "  you  tell  me  that  in  your  fancy  you 
saw  me  moving  about  the  rooms  at  Glen,  and  taking  my 
place  m  them.  One  strange  thing  with  me  is  that  I  can 
never  do  that — I  can  never  imagine  myself  at  Glen.  I 
never  go  beyond  my  wedding-day ;  the  life  that  lies  beyond 
it  is  all  dark  and  blank.  I  think  of  you,  and  of  being  with 
you ;  but  I  see  no  further.  I  never  behold  a  future  in 
which  we  are  both  here  at  Brentwood  or  at  Glen.  Do  you 
not  think  it  strange  ?  " 

"  You  are  fanciful,  Leah,"  he  replied.  Yet  her  v/ords 
touched  him. 

"  Is  that  it  ?  I  have  often  wondered  in  my  own  mind 
how  it  was.  You  are  sure  it  is  fancy,  Basil — not  presenti- 
ment } " 

He  laughed  at  the  idea  that  possessed  her. 

"  I  do  not  believe  in  presentiments,  Leah,"  he  said  ; 
"  fancy  and  presentiment  are  to  my  mind  the  same  thing." 

**  I  do  not  think  so,'^  she  replied.  "  I  have  heard  of  so 
many  forebodings  that  have  been  realized." 

"  Has  one  of  your  own  ever  been  realized  ?  "  he  asked. 

And  she  was  compelled  to  answer  "  No." 

"  Before  I  met  you,  Basil,"  she  said,  "  I  did  dream  at 
times  of  the  future  ;  now  I  have  a  weird  sensation  that  the 
end  of  everything  comes  w^ith  the  evening  of  the  day,  and 
the  morning  begins  a  new  life.'* 

"  I  was  much  amused,  remarked  Sir  Basil,  "  at  hear- 
ing that  Lady  Drummond  had  cured  her  youngest  daughter 
of  a  terrible  love-fever  by  the  simple  expedient  of  giving 
her  a  very  difficult  piece  of  needlework  to  do.  I  must 
follow  her  example  in  this  respect,  Leah.  I  must  give  you 
some  problems  in  Euclid  to  solve  ;  some  chapters  of  history 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  247 

to  study — anything  to  clear  these  cobwebs  from  youf 
brain." 

"  There  is  one  thing  that  I  would  much  rather  yon 
gave  me,"  she  said,  shyly. 

"  What  is  it,  Leah  ?  "  she  asked. 

There  was  no  answer. 

*'  Leah,  what  is  it  .'*  "  he  repeated. 

And  she  looked  up  at  him  with  a  beautiful  flush  on  hef 
face. 

"  I  honestly  believe  you  mean  this,"  he  replied,  bend- 
ing over  her,  and  kissing  her  lips.  "  Did  you  mean  that, 
dear  ?  " 

"  It  is  better  than  history  or  Euclid,"  she  replied, 
laughingly. 

And  then  the  bright-hued  birds  and  the  fragrant  blos- 
soms were  witnesses  of  a  pretty  little  scene  in  which  sweet 
sunny  laughter  and  tenderly-whispered  words  were  inter- 
mingled. 

It  was  one  of  the  happiest  hours  in  Leah's  life.  Her 
proud  beauty,  her  picturesque  surroundings,  the  love-light 
in  her  dark  eyes,  the  subtle  fragrance,  the  devotion  to  him- 
self with  which  each  word  of  hers  was  instinct,  all  charmed 
Sir  Basil  for  a  few  passing  minutes.  The  phantom  of  his 
love  with  the  pale  face  and  the  golden  hair  was  forgotten ; 
he  was  carried  away  by  Leah's  passionate  devotion. 

He  left  her  standing  there  amidst  the  birds  and  the 
blossoms,  her  eyes  full  of  love,  her  face  all  tenderness  j 
and  as  he  saw  her  in  that  momeut  he  never  iiaw  h&i  again. 


24&  ^  SROKEN  WF.DDJNG'RIN(k 


♦    CHAPTER  XXXVIIL 

The  last  autumn  flower  had  died,  and  over  the  earth 
had  fallen  the  white  robe  of  winter.  Glen  was  still  in  the 
hands  of  the  workpeople,  and  Sir  Basil  was  busied  with 
the  coming  election,  his  marriage,  and  his  estate.  Leah 
was  also  engrossed  in  preparations  ;  while  the  general  re- 
joiced to  see  his  niece  so  active  and  happy. 

A  sudden  interruption  came  to  this  state  of  things. 

One  morning  the  general  came  down  full  of  bright 
plans  and  anticipations.  His  favorite  beverage  was  a  cup 
of  coffee,  made  from  the  fragrant  freshly-ground  berries  : 
Leah,  on  the  contrary,  preferred  drinking  orange  pekoe 
from  a  cup  of  priceless  Sevres.'  Sir  Arthur  discussed  his 
breakfast,  talked  about  the  party  of  visitors  whom  he 
would  like  to  gather  under  his  roof  for  Christmas,  about 
Sir  Basil,  and  how  much  better  he  had  seemed  to  be  on 
the  previous  evening,  and  finally  walked  to  a  table  in 
another  part  of  the  room,  on  which  the  post-bag  was  lying. 

It  was  one  of  the  rules  of  the  household  at  Brentwood 
that  the  letters  should  never  be  opened  until  after  break- 
ast,  the  general's  idea  being  that,  if  they  contained  bad 
news,  it  was  better  to  delay  it,  if  good,  it  would  be  the 
better  for  keeping.  He  took  the  bag  in  his  hands,  all 
unconscious  that-  it  held  for  him  and  for  others  a  certain 
doom. 

"  We  have  numerous  correspondents  this  morning,"  he 
said,  turning  out  the  contents. 

Some  of  the  letters  contained  invitations  and  news  from 
iriends ;  others  were  circulars  and  charitable  appeals.  At 
last  the  general  came  to  one  envelope  that  seemed  to 
puzzle  him.      He  looked  at  the  post-mark,  and  saw  the 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  249 

word  "  Southwood."  Who  could  have  written  to  him  from 
Southwood  ?  That  was  the  little  town  on  the  slope  of  the 
great  green  hill  near  Dene  Abbey.  He  had  driven  through 
it  once  or  twice  ;  but  he  was  not  aware  that  he  knew  any 
one  living  there. 

"  Leah,"  he  cried,  "  here  is  a  strange  thing — a  letter 
from  Southwood  ?  That  is  the  place  by  the  sea,  is  it 
not  ? " 

"  Yes,"  she  replied ;  "  but  I  have  never  been  there.  I 
did  not  know  that  you  had  any  correspondents  in  that  part 
of  the  country,  uncle." 

"  Nor  did  I,"  he  said.  "  This  letter  is  written  by  a 
lady,  I  am  sure.     It  is  an  easy,  elegant,  flowing  hand." 

"  The  quickest  way  to  see  from  whom  it  comes  is  to 
open  it  and  look  at  the  signature,"  laughed  Leah.  "  You 
do  not  seem  to  have  thought  of  that,  uncle." 

He  joined  in  her  laughter,  then  opened  the  envelope, 
drew  out  the  letter,  and  read  it.  As  he  did  so,  all  the 
color  died  from  his  face  and  the  smile  from  his  lips.  He 
perused  it  slowly  and  carefully,  then  looked  at  Leali. 
Alarmed  by  the  expression  of  his  eyes,  she  rose  from  her 
seat  by  the  fire  and  went  over  to  him. 

"  This  concerns  you,  Leah,"  he  said.  "  It  is  written  by 
your  sister  Hettie." 

"  By  Hettie  1 "  she  cried.  "  Oh,  uncle,  what  is  it  ?  May 
I  read  it  ? " 

But,  when  she  held  the  letter  in  her  hands,  her  agitation 
v/as  so  great  that  she  could  not  see  the  words. 

"  Tell  me  what  it  is  about !  "  she  cried,  in  distress.  "  I 
cannot  read — I  cannot  see  !    What  is  it  about,  uncle  ?  " 

The  general  looked  at  her  with  pitying  eyes. 

•*  Let  me  keep  it  until  you  can  read  it,  Leah.  Carry 
,our  mind  back,  my  dear,  to  the  afternoon  when  I  first  saw 
>ou — to  the  little  gloomy  room  where  the  bars  of  yellow 
r^^light  fell  upon  the  floor.    Do  you  remember  it,  Leah  I " 


250  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

"Yes,"  she  cried,  with  a  shudder;  "but  why  do  you 
speak  of  it — why  remind  me  of  it  ?  " 

"You  will  hear,  my  dear.  This  letter  is  from  Hettie; 
and  she  says  that  your  father  is  very  ill,  and  wishes  to  see 
you." 

Leah  clasped  her  hands  in  dismay. 

"  Oh,  uncle,"  she  cried,  "  I  had  so  nearly  forgotten  that 
terrible  past,  that  dreadful  life  !  " 

"  I  know,  my  dear,"  he  said,  soothingly.  "  We  have 
kept  to  our  compact  well ;  the  name  of  Ray  has  not  beea 
meniioned  between  us.  But  this  letter  is  the  result  of  my 
words.  I  said — Heaven  forgive  me  if  I  spoke  too  harshly  ! 
— that  in  life  I  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  him,  but  that, 
if,  when  he  came  to  die,  he  wanted  you,  you  should  go  to 
him.     You  remember  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  shuddering,  "  I  i-emember  it.  You 
said  :  *  If  you  are  dying,  and  send  for  her,  she  shall  come.'  " 

"  Those  were  my  words,"  said  the  general,  "  and  I  must 
carry  them  out.  Your  father  is  dying,  Leah,  and  he  wants 
to  see  you." 

She  hid  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  he  saw  that  she 
trembled. 

"  You  shall  not  go  unless  you  wish,"  he  3aid. 
"  I  must  go,"  she  replied,  looking  up  at  him  in  troubled 
despair.     "  Duty,  conscience,  honor,  all  tell  me  I  must  go  ; 
but  I  shrink  from  it.     Oh,  uncle,  I  hated  that  old  life  so 
much ! " 

"  You  need  not  think  of  it.  You  will  never  go  back  to 
it,  Leah ;  and  you  shall  not  go  to  Southwood  now  unless 
you  wish  it." 

"  I  must  go,"  she  said,  more  to  herself  than  to  hinx 
**  He  is  my  father— I  must  go.  Let  me  see  what  Hettie 
says,  uncle.  I  have  longed  to  speak  of  her.  It  eases  my 
neart  even  to  utter  her  name," 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  251 

Silently  the  general  placed  the  letter  in  her  hands,  and 
watched  her  face  as  she  read. 

Simple  and  pathetic  were  the  words  addressed  by  Ket- 
tle to  the  general.  She  seemed  to  think  that  the  presence 
of  death  levelled  all  distinctions.  She  addressed  him  as 
*•  Dear  Uncle,"  and  went  on  to  say  that  all  through  the 
summer  her  father  had  been  very  ill,  but  that  lately  he  had 
been  much  worse.  Ten  days  since  the  doctor  had  thought 
him  dying.  Since  then  he  had  been  in  a  terrible  state- 
dying,  yet  could  not  die.  "  Last  night  "  he  had  called  her 
to  him,  and  told  her  that  he  could  not  die  until  he  had  seen 
Leah  once  more.  "  I  cursed  her,  Hettie,  when  she  left 
me,"  he  had  said,  "  and  I  want  to  take  the  curse  from  her. 
I  cannot  die  until  X  have  seen  her.  Write  to  the  general, 
and  ask  him  to  bring  her  hither." 

"  I  must  go,"  Leah  repeated,  with  white  lips,  turning  to 
the  general.  "  How  horrible,  uncle  !  My  poor  father  did 
curse  me,  but  they  were  only  words.  I  have  never  been 
frightened  about  it ;  have  you  .? "  . 

**  I  have  never  liked  even  to  think  of  it,  my  dear,"  he 
replied.  "  If  any  one  was  to  blame  in  that  terrible  busi- 
ness, it  was  myself.  I  was  too  harsh,  but  I  thought  I  was 
carrying  out  my  dead  sister's  wish — that  was  all.  Every- 
thing looks  different  in  the  presence  of  death ;  and  yet  I 
do  not  see  how  I  could  have  acted  otherwise.  Will  you  go 
at  once,  Leah  ? " 

"  Do  you  really  believe  that  he  is  dying  ?  "  she  asked. 

**  Yes,"  replied  the  general ;  "  I  see  no  reason  for 
doubting  what  Hettie  says.  I  do  not  think  he  would  ask 
to  see  you,  Leah,  if  he  had  any  chance  of  life." 

"  Then  we  must  go  at  once,"  she  said.  "  But  was  there 
ever  anything  so  strange,  uncle  ?  It  looks  to  me  more  than 
a  coincidence  that  they  should  have  lived  at  Southwood 
and  we  at  Dene  Abbey,  so  near  them,  yet  never  once  have 
met.    Is  it  fate  or  Providence  ?" 


252  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

"  Providence,"  replied  the  brave  old  soldier.  "  I  do 
not  believe  in  fate.  I  remember,  when  we  were  at  Dene, 
hearing  the  duke  speak  of  some  worn-out  old  politician  who 
lived  at  Southwood.  I  need  hardly  say  that  I  never  for 
one  moment  dreamed  that  it  was  Martin  Ray." 

Leah  shrank  back  with  a  shudder  at  the  sound  of  the 
name. 

**  Do  not  think  me  unfeeling,  uncle,"  she  said,  "  but  I 
suffered  so  terribly  in  my  early  life  that  I  cannot  bear  even 
to  recall  it.  And  to  think  that  I  have  been  so  near  Hettie 
and  never  knew  it !  " 

Sir  Arthur  took  out  his  watch  and  looked  at  it. 

"  We  can  catch  the  midday  express,"  he  said,  **  if  we 
lose  no  time." 

But  Leah  seemed  hardly  conscious  of  his  words. 

**  Uncle,"  she  said,  "  there  was  a  time  when  Hettie  and 
I  had  but  one  heart  and  one  life  between  us.  How  strange 
that  we  were  so  near,  with  only  the  great  green  hill  divid- 
ing us  !     I  wonder  what  Hettie  is  like." 

"  She  was  a  very  sweet  girl,"  said  the  general.  "  I 
wish  she  had  chosen  to  come  with  us  ;  but  I  admired  then, 
as  I  do  now,  the  faithful,  tender  heart.  We  must  not  lose 
time,  Leah,"  he  added. 

But  there  was  something  in  his  niece's  face  that  made 
him  stop  and  draw  her  closer  to  him,  that  made  him  kiss 
her  again  and  again,  while  he  said, — 

"  You  are  the  ^child  of  my  heart,  Leah ;  and  you,  who 
came  with  me,  are  the  one  I  shall  always  love  best  in  this 
world.  Go  now  to  your  room  to  dress,  and  I  will  get  ready 
at  once.  Stay — ^we  must  think  of  Basil.  Write  a  note  to 
him — one  of  the  grooms  shall  take  it  over — and  tell  him 
that  we  have  been  sent  for  quite  suddenly  to  the  sick-bed 
of  a  relative,  but  that  we  expect  to  return  in  a  day  or  two. 
Do  not  say  where  we  are  going.  I  will  tell  him  the  whole 
story  on  my  return.    I  intended  to  tell  him  in  the  course 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  253 

of  a  few  days  ;  it  is  time  he  knew.     How  surprised  he  wiU 
be ! " 

So  they  parted  ;  but,  for  the  first  time  since  he  had 
adopted  Leah,  there  was  in  the  general's  mind  a  slight 
sense  of  disappointment — he  could  hardly  tell  why  01 
wherefor.  He  would  have  felt  happier  had  she  shown 
more  pity,  more  affection  for  Martin  Ray,  more  anxiety  to 
be  with  him  ;  and  yet  it  was  by  his  wish  that  she  had  left 
him.  And  in  Leah's  heart  there  was  something  like 
a  feeling  of  resentment  or  jealousy.  It  seemed  to  her  that 
he  admired  Hettie  for  staying  with  her  father  quite  as 
much  as  he  had  admired  her  for  coming  away. 

"Perhaps,"  said  Leah  to  herself,  "he  thinks  Hettie 
the  more  noble  of  the  two.  He  does  not  know.  There 
are  many  ways  of  showing  true  nobility.  I  may  find  one 
some  day." 

They  reached  the  station  just  in  time  to  catch  the  mid- 
day express  that  would  enable  them  to  arrive  at  South- 
wood  long  before  night. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 


The  sullen,  gray  light  of  a  dull  November  sky  fell  over 
land  and  sea.  The  great  hill  that  lay  between  the  wide 
woodlands  and  Southwood  looked  brown  and  arid.  The 
tide  was  high,  and  the  huge  waves  boomed  at  the  foot  of 
the  rocks.  It  was  a  chill,  uncomfortable  evening,  with  a 
cold  wind  blowing,  the  clouds  falling  lower  and  lower  and 
threatening  rain,  a  mist  spreading  from  sea  to  land,  clinging 
to  the  trees  and  hedges,  and  lying  like  soft  clouds  on  the 
grass.  There  was  no  sound  of  a  bird's  song,  no  glimpse  of 
a  flower.  Even  the  pretty  little  town  of  Southwood  looked 
dull  and  gloomy.     All  around  it  was  still  and  silent  ex- 


254  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING'RmG, 

cept  for  the  sullen  roar  of  the  waves  and  the  wailing  of 
the  wind.  All  the  sweet  summer  sounds  and  scents  were 
dead ;  autumn  reigned  supreme. 

Inside  Martin  Ray's  cottage  the  scene  was  even  more 
dreary  than  without.  There  is  no  room  so  sad  as  that  in 
which  a  man  has  lain  day  after  day,  week  after  week,  dying. 
When  there  is  any  hope  in  the  nursing,  it  is  not  so  dreary. 
There  is  the  prospect  of  a  pleasant  termination ;  there  is  the 
looking  forward  to  a  time  when  all  the  paraphernalia  of  medi 
cine  will  be  done  away  with.  But  in  this  case  there  was  no 
such  hope.  The  I  -jng  illness  must  end  in  death,  and  death 
was  long  in  coming.  It  seemed  at  times  as  though  noth- 
ing but  the  fierceness  of  hate  kept  life  in  Martin  Ray ;  all 
that  he  had  disliked,  scorned,  denounced  in  his  youth  and 
his  strength,  was  more  odious  than  ever  to  him  now. 
More  than  once  his  doctor,  looking  at  the  stern,  vindictive 
face,  said  to  himself, — 

*'  It  is  strong  feeling  that  keeps  him  alive." 

That  Hettie  was  a  model  nurse,  as  she  had  always 
been  a  model  daughter,  surprised  no  one.  She  never 
seemed  to  think  of  herself;  she  scarcely  slept  or  rested,  for 
the  dying  man  was  afraid  to  be  left  alone. 

"  You  must  never  leave  me,  Hettie,"  he  said  to  her 
one  day.  "  While  you  are  in  the  room. some  of  my  old 
thoughts  of  the  angels  come  to  me  ;  the  moment  you  go  I 
have  a  horrible  fancy." 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  asked,  touching  the  gray  hair  with 
her  white  fingers. 

*'  When  you  leave  the  room,  it  fills  with  huge  black 
dogs,  their  flaming  eyes  all  fixed  on  me.  I  know  it  is  fancy, 
because  they  only  bark.     They  never  touch  me." 

She  could  only  bend  over  him  in  loving  pity,  and  mur- 
mur sweet  words  of  comfort. 

It  was  a  terrible  death-bed  to  Hettie.  It  would  have 
been  terrible  to  any  girl,  but  it  was  more  so  to  her,  for  she 


A  BROKEN-  WEDDING'R]JVG.  235 

was  so  sensitive,  so  spiritual  and  the  man  dying  there  so 
sadly  the  reverse.  She  never  forgot  those  long  night- 
watches.  It  was  horrible  to  turn  from  the  lines  of  light 
that  lay  upon  the  sea  to  the  ^ray  head  tossing  and  turning 
on  the  pillow,  to  the  pallid  lips  whose  utterances  were  at 
times  so  terrible 

One  night  Martin  called  her  to  him. 

"  Send  for  Leah,"  he  said  ;  "  I  cursed  her,  and  I  can- 
not die." 

He  knew  nothing  of  the  beauty  of  patience,  of  the  value 
of  suffering ;  all  that  he  knew  was  that  his  time  was  come, 
and  yt-  he  could  not  die. 

The  doctor  had  wondered  at  his  prolonged  life ;  and 
once — ah !  would  Hettie  ever  forget  that  terrible  day  ? — 
the  kind-hearted  rector  of  Southwood  had  made  his  way  to 
the  sick  man's  room.  Hettie  never  knew  all  that  passed  ; 
but,  when  he  was  leaving  the  house,  the  good  clergyman, 
with  a  shocked,  horrified  expression  on  his  face,  said, — 

*'  Pray  for  your  father.  He  wants  all  the  mercy  Heaven 
can  give  him.  It  is  nothing  but  hatred  that  keeps  him 
alive."  ' 

It  was  a  lonely  and  terrible  task,  nursing  that  stern, 
cynical  man.  Hettie  grew  paler  and  thinner  every  day, 
Deep  in  her  heart  lay  the  secret  of  her  lost  love.  She  had 
put  it  out  of  sight ;  there  would  be  time  enough  to  think  of 
it,  and  mourn  over  it,  when  her  father  was  gone.  Her  mind 
and  thoughts  were  so  much  engrossed  with  him  that  she 
did  not  dwell,  as  she  would  otherwise  have  done,  on  the 
fact  that  Leah  would  soon  be  with  her — Leah,  whom  she 
had  seen  last  in  all  the  splendor  of  her  magnificence. 

The  bleak  November  evening  wore  on,  the  gray  head 
and  the  white  face  turned  restlessly  to  and  fro. 

"  Hettie,  is  she  come  yet,"  was  the  hoarse  cry  from 
Martin's  lips.  "Your  sister  deserted  me,  and  I  cursed 
ner,  and  I  want  to  take  the  curse  away  from  hei.'* 


256  ^  BROKE]^  WEDDTNG-RmC, 

Tlie  devoted  daughter  who  had  been  so  true  and  faith- 
ful  to  hinis  who  had  refused  rank  and  wealth,  and  had 
clung  to  him — of  her  he  had  nothing  to  say.  He  did  not 
thank  her  for  the  sacrifice  of  so  much  of  her  fair  young 
life  to  him ;  he  accepted  all  as  his  due.  But  in  death,  a3 
in  life,  his  heart  was  with  his  beautiful  Leah,  whom  he 
had  meant  to  succeed  him. 

The  dull,  leaden  hours  passed  on.  He  had  no  strength ; 
for  many  hours  he  had  taken  no  nourishment.  He  called 
Hettie  to  him. 

**  Does  a  righteous  man's  blessing  ever  do  any  good  ?  ** 
he  asked,  in  a  thick,  hoarse  whispier. 

**Yes,"  she  answered. 

There  was  no  time  to  stop  and  think,  with  those  dying 
eyes  fixed  on  her  face. 

"  Then  a  bad  man's  curse  must  do  harm  ! "  he  moaned . 
and  Hettie  had  no  answer  for  him. 

The  evening  deepened,  silence  crept  over  the  land,  and 
the  shadow  of  death  grew  darker  over  the  cottage.  The 
grim  king  had  drawn  one  step  rearer,  and  Martin  Ray  had 
gathered  all  his  energies  together  to  do  battle  with  him. 
He  spoke  to  himself,  not  to  Hettie. 

**  I  will  not  die  until  I  have  seen  Leah.  What  is  it  I 
have  laid  upon  her?  Something  heavy,  and  black,  and 
bitter.  I  must  take  it  off.  I  will  not  die  until  she 
comes." 

In  this  the  hour  of  her  distress,  friends  and  neighbors 
were  good  to  Hettie.  She  was  never  left  alone.  But 
Martin  Ray  would  have  no  strange  women  in  his  room — 
no  nurses,  no  friendly  helpers  for  him ;  and  he  gave  no 
thought  to  the  terror  that  his  lonely  child  must  feel. 

As  this  world  fell  from  him  and  the  light  of  another 
grew  clearer  to  him,  he  saw  more  distinctly  the  face  of  his 
lost  daughter. 

"  Leah/*  he  cried,  incessantly.     **  Leah,  I  want  you 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  s";; 

Leah,  come  to  me  !  Leah,  I  cannot  die  !  O,  Heaven,  I 
cannot  die ! " 

Hettie  had  borne  so  much  that  she  did  not  even  cry 
out  when  he  turned  his  angry,  despairing,  dying  face  to 
hers,  and  said, — 

*'  Why  did  you  not  go  ?  Since  one  must  leave  me,  why 
did  you  not  go  and  leave  her  with  me  ? " 

They  were  cruel  words  that  her  tender  heart  did  not 
resent  even  then.  She  excused  him  even  to  herself,  say- 
ing that  he  did  not  know  what  he  was  uttering,  he  did  not 
understand.  The  cold  hand  of  Death  pressed  him  more 
closely.  There  was  something  of  dignity  in  the  way  in 
which  Martin  Ray  threw  out  his  arms  in  despair. 

"  I  will  not  die  until  I  have  seen  Leah ! "  he  cried. 
**  I  know — I  have  read — what  the  curse  of  a  father  brings 
to  a  child.  She  did  not  merit  it.  I  must  take  it  away.  If 
I  do  not,  her  life  will  be  spoiled.  Hettie,  give  me  some- 
thing that  I  niay  live  until  she  comes.  I  can  hear  horses 
galloping  up  the  hill — I  hear  carriage-wheels  !  I  hear  the 
rush  of  the  wind,  the  roar  of  the  sea  ;  I  can  hear — oh,  Leah, 
make  haste ! " 

But  Hettie  kn^w  that  no  carriage  could  drive  up  to 
their  cottage,  and  she  tried  her  best  to  tranquillize  him. 
his  cries  grew  feebler ;  the  incessant  beating  of  his  hand 
on  the  pillow  stopped ;  there  was  a  curious  look  on  his 
face,  gray,  livid,  and  startled. 

She  knelt  down  by  his  side  and  took  one  of  the  numbed 
hands  in  hers,  and  laid  it  upon  her  head. 

"  I  have  loved  you  and  served  you  faithfully,  father  " 
she  said  ;  "  have  you  no  blessing  for  me  ?  " 

The  hand  lay  there  like  lead ;  the  dying  eyes  looked 
into  hers,  and  in  them  she  read  a  terrible  craving. 

*'  I  want  Leah  !  "  he  muttered. 

Suddenly  the  gray  shades  changed  into  darkness  ;  and 
Hettie,  seeing  a  new  and  terribly  strange  expression  o^ 


2^8  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RiNG. 

the  worn  face,  rose  from  her  knees  with  a  startled  cry. 
The  women  waiting  below  came  running  up ;  and  as  they 
did  so  the  sound  of  some  unusual  stir  below  told  that  Sir 
Arthur  and  Leah  had  arrived.  At  the  same  moment  some, 
thing  like  a  shudder  passed  over  the  dying  man.  The 
next  instant  a  soul  had  gone  forth  to  meet  its  Judge,  and 
the  Angel  of  Death  sheathed  his  sword  Martin  Ray  was 
dead. 

It  was  little  wonder  that  Hettie,  dazed  and  stunned,  fell 
forward  upon  the  quiet  heart  that  was  to  love  and  to  hate 
no  more. 

When  she  opened  her  eyes  again,  it  was  Leah  who  held 
her  in  her  arms.  One  minute  had  passed,  yet  to  Hettie  it 
seemed  many  hours. 

*•  Too  late  ! "  she  heard  some  one  say.  Then  Leah 
placed  her  gently  in  the  chair,  and  went  over  to  her  father, 
she  knelt  down  by  his  side,  and  a  bitter  cry  came  from  her 
lips. 

"  I  am  tot)  late,"  she  said — "  too  late  !  Oh,  Hettie,  he 
has  never  taken  that  cruel  curse  from  me  !  I  am  too 
late!" 

She  took  the  cold,  motionless  hand  in  hers,  and  the 
silence  in  the  room  was  broken  only  by  her  sobs.  All  the 
past,  with  its  great  dread,  and  her  great  horror  of  it,  passed 
over  her  as  she  looked  at  his  face — the  face  that  would 
never  smile  or  frown  upon  her  again. 

The  general,  watching  the  scene,  assured  himself  that 
it  was  better  father  and  daughter  had  not  met.  There 
could  have  been  nothing  pleasant  in  the  words  thoy  would 
have  exchanged ;  there  would  have  been  no  real  affection. 
Yet  he  had  a  lingering,  half-supersitious  wish  that  the 
terrible  curse  Martin  Ray  had  hurled  at  Leah  when  they 
parted  had  been  taken  back. 

"  I  am  too  late  ! "  sobbed  Leah.  "  Oh,  Hettie,  if  I  had 
but  spoken  to  him  once  ?     I  have  often  thought  of  him» 


A  BROKEN-  WEDDING-RING.  259 

often  been  sorry ;  and  now  I  am  too  late  !  Tell  ine  if  he 
spoke  about  me,  if  he  said  anything,  if  he  wished  to  see 
me  ?     He  was  my  own  father,  after  all. 

Sir  Arthur  withdrew,  signing  to  the  women  to  follow 
him.  It  was  better  to  leave  the  sisters  alone  with  their 
dead. 

An  hour  afterward,  when  he  went  back,  he  found  them 
locked  in  each  other's  arms,  and  he  vowed  to  himself  that 
they  should  not  be  parted  again.  Death  had  softened  his 
heart,  and  had  inclined  it  to  the  fair  and  devoted  child  of  his 
dead  sister.  He  resolved  that,  if  she  would,  she  should 
come  away  with  him,  and  leave  him  no  more. 


CHAPTER  XL, 

Death  lias  a  majesty  of  its  own  ;  and  General  Sir  Arthur 
Hatton,  who  had  shown  scant  courtesy  to  Martin  Ray 
when  alive,  who  had  indeed  detested  him,  now  that  he  was 
dead,  showed  due  honor  and  respect  to  his  mernory.  He 
remained  at  the  cottage  with  Leah  and  Hettie,  he  attended 
the  funeral,  and  then  the  little  council  was  held  which  de- 
cided the  fate  of  so  many. 

There  was  no  sensation  when  the  quiet  funeral  proces- 
sion wound  its  way  down  the  green  hill  to  the  pretty  church- 
yard. Few  knew  that  the  once  popular  "Voice  of  the 
People"  was  laid  to  rest  here,  that  the  man  who  had  taught 
sedition  and  treason,  whose  voice  had  been  as  a  flame  of 
fire,  slept  his  last  long  sleep  in  the  quiet  churchyard.  The 
waves  sang  his  requiem. 

■  Martin  Ray  had  left  nothing  but  his  name,  In  one 
sense  his  daughters  were  pleased  that  it  was  so.  It  dis- 
proved, they   thought,    most    conclusively  many    of    the 


26o  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

charges  brought  against  him.  He  had  not  made  money 
out  of  his  starving  admirers. 

The  funeral  was  over,  and  the  general  and  his  two 
nieces  sat  in  the  little  parlor,  where  the  blinds  were  still 
drawn  and  the  gloom  of  death  still  lingered.  Now  that 
the  last  solemn  rites  had  been  performed,  the  general  was 
anxious  to  return  home  ;  it  was  of  no  use  spending  even 
another  hour  in  Southwood.  But  he  wanted  to  take  Het- 
tie  back  with  him. 

At  their  first  interview  he  had  been  so  entirely  captiva- 
ted by  Leah  that  he  had  not  taken  much  notice  of  Hettie. 
He  remembered  only  that  she  was  fair,  sweet,  and  win- 
some, and  that  although  he  was  angry  and  irritated  with 
her,  he  could  not  help  admiring  her  faithful  love  and  de- 
votion to  one  of  the  most  unprepossessing  of  men.  He 
had  taken  her  sister  away,  and  had  forbidden  all  mention 
of  her  name ;  but  his  anger  had  been  against  the  girl's 
father,  and  not  against  herself.  Now  that  her  father  was 
dead,  it  seemed  to  him  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world 
that  he  should  adopt  her. 

He  asked  her  to  return  with  him,  to  live  with  him  as 
his  daughter,  and  not  to  leave  them  again.  He  liked  her  all 
the  better  because  she  was  in  no  hurry  to  accept  the  invi- 
tation. The  girFs  heart  was  still  sore  with  the  old  pain. 
She  could  not  forget  all  at  once  that  this  man  who  was 
willing  now  to  make  her  his  adopted  daughter  had  de- 
nounced her  father  in  most  unmeasured  terms ;  she  could 
not  forget  the  scene  in  the  gloomy  littl  ehouse  in  Manches- 
ter. In  death,  as  in  life,  her  heart  was  faithful  to  her  father. 
Had  he  lived,  she  would  have  refused  every  overture  from 
Sir  Arthur ;  as  it  was,  she  was  with  difficulty  persuaded 
even  to  listen  to  him. 

On  the  day  of  the  funeral  he  asked  her  what  she  in- 
tended to  do.  She  told  him  that  she  should  live  on  there 
at  the  cottage  and  continue  her  teaching.     She  could  al- 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  26? 

ways  earn  enough  money  for  her  maintenance.  Sir  Arthur 
looked  at  her,  so  young,  so  fair,  so  refined,  and  he  vowed 
to  himself  that  it  should  rever  be.  Then  he  talked  to 
Leah.  He  would  do  nothing  without  consulting  her.  Her 
eyes  filled  with  tears  when  she  heard  of  his  generouj* 
proposal. 

*'  It  is  the  only  thing  wanting  to  make  my  life  perfectly 
happy,"  she  said.  "  I  love  Hettie  so  dearly !  No,pne  will 
ever  know  what  it  cost  me  to  leave  her." 

Yet  it  did  not  seem  sure  that  Hettie  would  consent. 
To  live  in  grand  houses,  to  wear  costly  jewels  and  rich 
dresses,  to  have  every  luxury  that  the  world  can  give,  was 
not  much  to  Hettie.  The  world  could  really  give  her 
nothing,  for  she  knew  it  had  nothing  to  give.  The  gener- 
al's offer  would  have  been  no  temptation  to  her  but  for  her 
great  love  for  Leah.     Sir  h  rthur  was  perfectly  frank. 

"  Leah,"  he  said,  "  I  look  upon  as  my  adopted  child,  as 
my  own  daughter.  From  the  moment  she  turned  to  me, 
acknowledgmg  her  mother's  wish — from  that  moment  she 
has  been  to  me  my  own.  You,  Hettie,  can  never  take  her 
place,  nor  even  stand  near  her  in  my  affections  !  " 

To  which  Hettie,  with  a  slight  flush  on  her  fair  face, 
said  that  she  had  not  the  least  wish  to  rival  Leah,  that  she 
had  clung  to  her  father,  and  that,  if  the  choice  were 
offered  to  her  again,  she  should  do  the  same  thing. 

Sir  Arthur  was  not  in  the  least  offended  at  her  words ; 
he  seemed  to  like  her  all  the  better  for  them.  He  kissed 
her,  and  her  face  flushed  a  little  at  his  caress. 

"Come  with  me,  Hettie,"  he  said.  "You  shall  be  my 
daughter.  Leah  is  my  heiress  ;  but  I  will  give  you  a  for- 
tune." 

"  I  do  not  wish  any  fortune,"  she  answered,  simply ; 
"  I  have  no  use  for  money.  But  I  do  want  Leah,  1  would 
be  Leah's  maid  in  order  that  I  might  be  near  her." 

And  Sir  Arthur  thought,  as  he  saw  the  two  sisters  em- 


262  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

brace  each  other,  that  it  would  be  a  thousand  pities  ever 
to  part  them  again.  They  were  in  perfect  contrast,  yet 
there  was  something  similar  in  the  two  faces.  Leah's  was 
proud,  Hettie's  was  tender.  Leah  was  brilliant  with  the 
dark  beauty  of  her  face,  the  statuesque  grace  of  her  mag- 
nificent neck  and  shoulders ;  Hettie  was  all  that  was 
most  sweet  and  winsome.  Men  would  probably  admire 
Leah  more,  but  love  Hettie  best. 

Sir  Arthur  wished  with  all  his  heart  that  his  sister  hac\ 
lived,  that  she  might  have  seen  these  two  fair  women. 
How  proud  she  would  have  been  of  them !  How  she 
would  have  loved  them !  And  now  they  were  both  alone 
in  the  world  and  quite  dependent  on  him.  In  her  way, 
Hettie  was  as  deserving  as  Leah.  He  would  give  her  a 
handsome  fortune;  he  could  do  that  without  injury  to 
Leah's  interests.  She  might  marry  well;  or,  when  Leah 
had  married  Sir  Basil,  this  girl,  who  had  been  so  true  and 
so  loving  to  her  father,  might  prove  a  comfort  to  him. 
Had  it  been  the  general's  wish  alone  to  make  her  home  at 
Brentwood,  Hettie  would  have  refused  ;  but  she  could  re- 
fuse nothing  to  the  beloved  sister  whom  she  had  loved  so 
well  and  had  lost  so  long. 

The  general  said  all  he  had  to  say,  and  then  went  out 
to  smoke  a  cigar  by  the  sea-wall  where  Martin  Ray  and 
Sir  Basil  had  often  stood,  leaving  the  sisters  to  finish  the 
debate  alone.  When  he  had  gone,  golden-haired  Hettie 
went  up  to  her  stately  sister. 

"  Oh,  Leah,"  she  cried,  "  is  there  no  other  way  in 
which  we  could  be  together  ?  After  all  he  said  to  our 
poor  father  I  feel  that  I  shall  hate  to  live  under  his  roof 
and  eat  his  bread.  If  you  would  come  and  live  with  me, 
I  would  work  so  hard  to  keep  you,  and  you  should  never 
work  at  all." 

Leah  laughed.    How  little  this  good  sister  of  hers  knew 


A  BROKEl^  WEDDING-RING.  263 

to  what  luxury  she  was  accustomed !    She  kissed  the  sweet 
face. 

"  You  must  not  forget,  Hettie,"  she  said,  "  all  about 
our  mother.  Remember  that  Sir  Arthur  represents  her. 
If  she  were  living,  if  she  could  speak  to  us,  I  am  quite  sure 
that  she  would  tell  us  both  that  he  stood  in  her  place.  I 
can  never  leave  him.  Instead  of  asking  me  to  do  that, 
make  up  your  mind  to  come  and  live  with  me.  He  is  so 
kind  ;  we  shall  be  very  happy.  Oh,  Hettie,  can  you  un- 
derstand how  much  I  have  always  wanted  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  can,  for  I  was  never  happy  without  you./' 

And  then  Hettie  told  her  sister  how  she  had  watched 
Plarbury  House,  and  how  she  had  seen  her  once 
at  the  theatre,  and  how  she  had  purchased  from  the 
footman  the  bouquet  that  she  had  held  in  her  hands. 

Leah's  face  softened  and  brightened. 

"  Did  you  really  love  me  so  much  ? "  she  asked.  "  I 
wish  I  had  known  you  were  so  near  to  me,  Hettie;  I 
should  have  risked  a  great  deal  to  speak  to  you.  How 
strange  we  should  be  parted  as  we  were  !  I  could  not 
have  stayed.  I  could  never  have  been  what  my  father 
desired.  Oh,  Hettie,  do  as  Sir  Arthur  wishes — come 
home  with  us  !  You  must  have  suffered  terribly.  I  will 
make  it  all  up  to  you. "  She  caressed  the  golden  head 
that  lay  upon  her  breast ;  she  kissed  the  flower-like  face. 
*'  You  are  so  fair,  Hettie,  "  she  said  "  so  graceful,  so  sweet ! 
I  long  to  see  you  dressed  in  handsome  silks  and  laces. 
You  will  be  a  queen  of  beauty.  I  know  few  women  in 
London  so  fair  as  you. " 

"  I  do  not  care  for  that ;  I  want  only  to  be  near  you, 
Leah,  where  I  can  see  you  in  the  morning  and  at 
night,  where  I  can  listen  to  your  voice  and  hear  what 
people  say  of  you.  I  could  never  live  away  from  you 
again,  now  that  I  have  found  you,  Leah,  " 


C04 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 


"  There  is  no  need  for  it,  Hettie,  if  you  will  but  listen 
to  reason.  "  said  Leah. 

It  was  touching  to  see  those  two  fair  women,-  the 
lovely  faces  so  near  together,  the  slender  arms  entwined, 
the  dark  head  bending  over  the  fair  one.  Hettie  looked 
up  at  Leah. 

"  I  should  not  like, "  she  said,  "  to  interfere  with  your 
prospects,  Leah.  You  are  Sir  Arthur's  heiress,  and  it  is 
quite  right.  I  would  much  sooner  have  shared  my  father's 
poverty  than  my  uncle's  wealth.  I  had  my  choice,  and  it 
does  not  seem  fair  for  me  to  interfere  with  you. " 

"  Our  uncle  is  rich  enough,  Hettie  darling,  to  adopt 
half  a  dozen  nieces, "  her  sister  replied,  tranquilly. 
"  There  can  be  no  question  of  interference  with  me. 
Even  if  there  were,  and  I  had  to  share  my  fortune  with 
you,  believe  me,  I  should  be  only  too  happy.  You  are 
more  to  me  than  any  money,  Hettie.  I  imagine  that, 
because  you  saw  me  leave  a  poor  father  and  transfer  my 
affections  to  a  rich  uncle,  you  argue  I  love  money.  You 
are  wrong.  Had  my  uncle  been  poor  and  my  father  rich, 
I  should  have  done  just  the  same,  I  do  not  want  to 
speak  of  it ;  but  it  was  the  teaching,  the  life  that  I  dis- 
hked.  I  would  have  done  anything  to  escape  from  it.  It 
seems  to  me,  Hettie,  that  Heaven  has  befriended  us. 
Last  year  we  had  no  hope,  no  thought  of  ever  seeing  each 
other  again ;  now  we  are  offered  the  same  home  if  you, 
Hettie,  will  but  lower  your  pride.  I  am  sure  that,  if  you 
knew  Sir  Arthur,  you  would  like  him.  He  has  the  bravest, 
truest  heart,  the  noblest  soul " 

"  He  hated  my  father,  "  interrupted  Hettie,  "  and  he 
took  you  from  me. " 

**  I  went  of  my  own  free  will, "  said  Leah.  "  I  should 
have  run  away,  Hettie,  if  I  had  not  accepted  his  offer ; 
and,  remember,  it  was  not  my  father,  but  his  teaching  and 
his  belief,  that  Sir  Arthur  hated.     O,  Hettie !  now  that  we 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  26- 

have  found  each  other,  do  not  let  us  part !  I  will  bury 
the  past ;  you  do  the  same.  We  are  alone  in  the  world ; 
let  us  live  for  each  other.  There  is  nothing  but  pride  be- 
tween us.  Hettie,  if  you  love  me,  you  will  let  that  pride 
die." 

"  It  is  not  pride,  Leah.  Do  you  not  understand  ?  It 
seems  to  me  that  if  I  go  to  Sir  Arthur,  I  am  disloyal  to 
my  father. " 

"  That  is  only  a  fancy — a  morbid  fancy.  Your  path 
seems  to  me  clear  enough.  " 

"  But,  Leah  " — and  the  blue  eyes  anxiously  sought  the 
dark  ones — "  I  have  not  had  your  advantages.  I  do  not 
see  how  I  can.  You  and  I  are  quite  different  now.  You 
are  a  lady  of  fashion  and  rank ;  I  am  only  a  poor  music 
teacher. " 

"  What  nonsense,  Hettie !  We  are  sisters !  Can 
anything  undo  that  ?  If  you  come  to  regard  the  matter  in 
its  true  light,  which  of  us  two  has  led  the  nobler  life — you 
or  I  ?  If  there  is  any  unworthiness,  it  is  on  my  side,  not 
on  yours.  My  pretty  Hettie,  for  months  after  I  had  left 
you,  I  dreamed  of  those  golden  ripples  of  hair.  How 
strange  it  was — our  uncle  coming  so  suddenly  and  putting 
before  us  so  terrible  a  choice  !  " 

"  I  have  never  repented  mine,  "  said  Hettie. 

*'  Nor  have  I  mine, "  declare^  Leah.  "  But  now  the 
time  has  come  when  we  may  be  happy  together,  if  you  are 
willing  Hettie. " 

She  prevailed  at  length,  but  it  was  after  a  long  strug- 
gle. Hettie  promised  to  make  her  home  with  Sir  Arthur 
and  her  sister ;  and  Leah  knew  that  she  would  keep  her 
word. 

It  was  arranged  that  they  should  go  first  to  London, 
where  a  fitting  trousseau  and  mourning  could  be  provided ; 
and  the  two  sisters  left  Southwood  with  their  hearts  full  of 
love  for  each  other,  but  each  keepmg  her  secret.    Leah 


266  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RUSTG. 

had  not  told  Hettie  of  her  passionate  love,  her  approach* 
ing  marriage,  or  the  pain  which  weighed  at  times  so  heavily 
upon  her ;  nor  did  Hettie  tell  Leah  of  tliat  episode  in  hei 
life  which  was  to  her  like"  a  fair  sweet  dream. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 


There  was  a  long  animated  discussion  between  the 
general  and  Hettie.  She  was  so  firmly  resolved  not  to 
relinquish  her  name,  and  Sir  Arthur  was  as  fully  deter- 
mined that  the  name  of  Ray  should  never  be  heard  in  his 
house.  It  was  Leah  who  decided  the  matter.  She  repre- 
sented to  Hettie  that,  if  she  lived  in  her  uncle's  house,  if 
she  accepted  a  fortune  at  his  hands,  she  was  bound  in 
honor  to  accept  it  on  his  conditions.  Again  Hettie  would 
have  held  out,  and  have  left  him ;  but  Leah  prevailed. 
Hettie  could  not  resist  her  •*  for  my  sake. "  She  could 
refuse  nothing  to  the  beloved  sister  from  whom  she  had 
been  parted  so  long. 

There  was  nothing  of  obstinacy  in  the  tender  heart  of 
Hettie,  but  there  was  always  a  quick  loving  sense  that  she 
must  do  npthing  that  would  seem  disloyal  to  the  dead- 
Had  she  met  the  brave,  simple  old  soldier  elsewhere,  had 
he  been  any  one  except  her  uncle,  she  would  have  liked 
him  at  once ;  but  between  her  and  Sir  Arthur  stood  the 
memory  of  the  father  whom  she  had  loved  and  he  had 
denounced. 

The  more  the  general  saw  of  Hettie  the  more  he  liked 
her.  He  thought  she  was  possessed  of  an  extraordinary 
combination  of  brilliant  qualities.  She  was  loving,  gentle 
and  tender  of  heart,  without  being  weak  and  undecided ; 
she  was  firm  and  self-reliant,  without  obstinacy,  She  lack- 


A  BItOKEJ\r  WEDDING-RING,  267 

ed  the  touch  of  genius  which  Leah  had,  but  she  was  the 
very  ideal  of  true  womanhood.  Every  hour  the  general 
grew  more  charmed  with  her.  There  was  no  restlessness, 
no  passion  in  her  fair,  calm  face. 

"  Any  one  on  seeing  you  would  think,  my  dear,"  said 
the  general  to  her,  "  that  you  had  gone  through  a  great 
deal  of  trouble." 

"Why?"  she  asked,  with  a  smile — they  were  driving 
then  from  the  station  home  to  Brentwood.  -* 

"I  should  be  puzzled,  Hettie,  to  say  why;  but  your 
eyes  have  a  strangely  calm  expression." 

Leah's  dark  eyes  were  fixed  anxiously  on  her.  Hettie's 
thoughts  went  back  to  the  hour  when,  under  the  twinkling 
stars,  she  had  bidden  her  lover  good- by — back  to  that  pain 
which  had  been  so  great  that  it  had  stunned  her.  Now 
she  would  have  time  to  realize  it  all. 

The  lovely  face  grew  a  shade  paler  as  she  answered : 

**My  life  has  been  like  all  other  lives,  I  suppose, 
uncle,"  she  replied,  evasively. 

"  All  the  happiness  has  to  come,"  interrupted  Leah. 

And  the  general,  looking  at  the  fair  face,  wondered 
whether,  if  Hettie  had  come  to  him  first,  he  would  have 
loved  her  best,  at  present  he  thought  that  he  should  never 
in  this  world  care  for  any  one  as  he  did  for  his  beautiful 
Leah. 

They  had  been  two  days  in  London,  and  had  been  so 
incessantly  occupied  that  there  had  been  but  few  oppor- 
tunities for  conversation, 

The  general  was  strictly  just.  Leah  was  his  heiress  ; 
for  her  there  were  rare  jewels,  Indian  spoils,  all  that  was 
most  costly  and  magnificent.  For  Hettie  there  was  posi- 
tion, and  there  was  luxury,  but  her  fortune  would  by  no 
means  be  so  extensive.  Sir  Arthur  had  soon  made  up 
his  mind  as  to  what  he  would  be  able  to  give  Hettie  for 
her  dower ;  and  the  interest  on  it  was  to  be  her  own,  to 


268  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

spend  as  she  liked.  All  these  arrangements  were  made 
in  detail  during  their  stay  in  London.  It  was  evident  to 
all  who  knew  them  that  the  general  did  not  intend  the 
two  sisters  to  be  on  an  equal  footing.  Leah  was  to  be 
mistress  and  heiress;  Hettie,  the  newcomer,  was  to  be 
subordinate  to  her.  It  wa's  evident  to  all  that  he  loved 
Leah  best. 

Before  they  left  London  for  Brentwood  a  better  under- 
standing was  arrived  at  between  Hettie  and  her  uncle. 
They  were  alike  in  many  respects — in  simple  honesty  and 
sincerity,  in  a  certain  unworldliness  of  character  that  was 
beautiful  in  itself,  in  a  certain  sense  of  honor  and  loyalty 
that  both  held  most  sacred.  When  Hettie  recovered  her 
spirits,  and  began  to  talk  more  freely  to  the  general,  he 
was  charmed  with  her  sweet,  quaint  wisdom ;  she  knev/  so 
much,  she  was  so  helpful,  so  self-reliant,  and  she  excused 
herself  so  simply  when  he  taxed  her  with  much  learning  or 
scholarship.  She  had  been  obliged  to  read,  she  said,  in 
order  to  converse  with  her  father.  Such  was  the  love  this 
girl  had  borne  him,  so  tender,  so  devoted  so  true,  that  the 
general  could  not  forbid  all  mention  of  his  name ;  and, 
though  Hettie  seldom  referred  to  her  father,  when  she  did 
so  she  was  listened  to  in  silence,  if  not  with  respect. 

Leah  seemed  much  happier.  Her  love  and  her  lover 
were  to  her  far  too  sacred  to  be  lightly  discussed  as  they 
drove  from  shop  to  shop  in  search  of  elegancies  and  nov- 
elties in  the  way  of  dress. 

"  Hettie,  "  she  said,  one  morning,  "I  cannot  tell  you 
much  while  we  are  here,  amid  the  noise  and  bustle  of 
London,  but  when  we  reach  Brentwood  I  shall  have  some- 
thing to  say  to  you.  " 

In  the  mean  time,  they  were  most  happy  together. 
Leah  was  far  too  noble  for  jealousy.  She  delighted  to 
see  her  uncle  lavish  kindness,  valuable  presents,  and  at- 
tentions on  Hettie.     She  was  far  more  pleased  than  when 


/i  BROKEN  WEDDING-RWG.  269 

the  nice  were  lavished  on  herself ;  and  Sir  Arthur  was 
proud  of  her  generosity.  During  tiiese  ten  days  she  had 
heard  repeatedly  from  Sir  Basil.  Why  she  said  nothing 
grbout  him  she  could  scarcely  have  explained,  except  on 
the  ground  that  she  intended  to  tell  Hettie  all  the  story 
of  her  love  when  they  were  at  Brentwood.  The  general 
had  said  to  her  one  day  that  it  would  be  better  for  her  to 
say  nothing  of  Hettie  to  Sir  Basil  at  present ;  she  could 
tell  him,  however,  that  he  would  find  another  inmate  at 
Brentwood,  one  whom  he  would  be  compelled  to  like 
very  much,  and  that  Sir  Arthur  had  a  communication  to 
make  to  him  when  they  met  again. 

"  He  will  think  I  am  married,  "  laughed  the  general. 
"  How  surprised  he  will  be  !  " 

"  Uncle,"  asked  Leah  suddenly,  "  do  you  think  that 
Basil  will  like  Hettie  ? " 

He  looked  at  her  uneasily  for  a  short  time,  and  then 
he  replied, — 

"  I  should  think  that  he  is  sure  to  like  her.  I  do  not 
see  how  he  can  help  it.  The  difference  between  you  two 
sisters  is  this — you  take  one's  heart  by  storm;  Hettie 
creeps  into  it  unawares.  " 

"  The  real  question,"  laughed  Leah,  "  is,  which  is 
likely  to  remain  the  longer  ?  " 

*'  You  would.  Loving  you,  Leah,  would  be  a  fever 
which  no  man  could  shake  off.  Make  yourself  quite  easy 
about  that.     Basil  is  sure  to  like  Hettie.  " 

But  for  a  few  minutes  after  he  had  spoken  the  words 
t'^  general  did  not  seem  quite  like  himself. 

They  returned  to  Brentwood ;  but  Sir  Basil  was  n^ 
there  to  meet  them.  He  had  gone  to  Glasgow  on  soir,  3 
sudden  and  unforeseen  business,  and  was  uncertain  as  to 
the  precise  day  of  his  return.  He  had  written  to  Leah, 
and  professed  to  be  most  curious  about  the  "  new  inmate" 
and  the  communication  that  Sir  Arthur  had  to  make.     It 


270  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

was  a  very  kind,  affectionate  letter,  and  Leah  read  it 
with  a  flush  on  her  face  and  tears  in  her  eyes.  She  kissed 
it  when  she  had  mastered  every  word  in  it,  and  thought, 
with  a  glow  of  warmth  in  her  heart,  what  a  happy  life  lay 
before  them.  And  Basil  would  be  sure  to  like  Hettie. 
Had  not  her  uncle  said  so  ? — and  he  was  clear  of  sight 
and  keen  of  judgment.  She  had  no  fear;  the  happy 
future  for  which  she  had  longed  and  hoped  was  sure  to  be 
hers.  What  of  that  curse,  the  memory  of  which  had 
haunted  her  and  frightened  her  ?  It  meant  nothing ;  it 
could  mean  nothing ;  and  after  all,  her  father  had  wished 
everj  word  unsaid.  Why  need  the  memory  of  it  pain  her 
now  ?  There  came  to  her  mind  a  sudden  resolution  ;  she 
would  try  to  atone  to  her  father  by  double  love  and  good- 
ness to  Hettie.  She  determined  that  when  they  reached 
Brentwood  she  would  tell  Hettie  her  lovcistory  before  she 
saw  Basil,  and  afterward  they  would  be  such  good  friends, 
such  dear  friends. 

The  weather  had  changed  on  the  day  they  left  Lon- 
don for  Brentwood.  There  was  something  like  a  gleam 
of  warmth  and  brightness  in  the  winter  sun ;  the  air  was 
clear,  the  sky  blue. 

Leah  was  proud  of  Brentwood.  She  saw  Hettie's  fair 
face  flush  and  her  eyes  open  wide  as  they  drove  through 
the  magnificent  avenue,  and  the  first  view  of  the  grand 
old  mansion  burst  upon  them. 

"Is  that  Brentwood?"  she  asked.  "O,  Leah!  I 
never  thought  it  was  like  that.     It  is  a  palace  !  " 

*'  There  is  many  a  palace  not  half  so  beautiful, "  said 
the  general. 

But  Hettie  was  thinking  that  Leah  would  one  day  be 
mistress  of  it,  and  her  wonder  grew.  She  was  honestly 
pleased  that  Leah,  and  not  herself  was  to  be  so  favored. 

"  I  should  not  know  what  to  do  with  such  wealth, " 
she  thought  to  herself,  and  her  eyes  wandered  from  the 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING'RING.  27, 

grand  old  mansion  to  the  beautiful  face  of  her  stately  sis. 
ter.  What  a  perfect  queen  she  would  make  for  that  per- 
fect home ! 

She  liked  the  general  more  because  of  his  warm  wel 
come  to  her.  He  kissed  her,  and  bade  her  welcome  to 
Brentwood,  his  heart  full  of  honest  emotion,  his  eyes 
full  of  tears.  Surely,  if  the  little  sister  whom  he  had  loved 
and  lost  years  before,  knew  how  fully  he  had  carried  out 
her  wishes,  she  would  be  pleased  with  him. 

To  Leah's  eyes  Brentwood  had  never  looked  so  beau- 
tiful as  it  did  in  the  gold  and  gray  of  this  November  day. 
She  was  supremely  happy.  She  had  chosen  her  sister's 
rooms — they  were  to  be  next  to  her  own — and  they  had 
been  prettily  arranged  for  her.  Leah  showed  her  all  over 
the  house — the  music-room,  with  its  magnificent  carvings ; 
the  grand  picture  gallery,  wdth  its  fine  collection  of 
paintings  ;  the  large  drawing-room,  with  its  beautiful  dec- 
orations ;  and  whenever  Hettie  interupted  her  sister,  it 
was  to  say  how  well  suited  she  was  to  the  home  over 
which  she  was  to  reign  as  mistress. 

"We  will  go  through  the  grounds  and  gardens  to- 
morrow, "  said  Leah.     "  I  am  tired  now.  " 

"  What  would  my  father  have  thought  of  all  this  splen- 
dor, Leah  ? "  remarked  Kettie,  wonderingly. 

"He  would  have  enjoyed  it,"  was  the  quiet  reply; 
and  Hettie  said  no  more. 

It  was  late  that  night  before  either  sister  slept — the 
happiness  of  being  together  was  so  intense. 

"  It  is  like  reaching  a  safe  harbor  after  sailing  on  a 
stormy  sea,  "  thouQjht  Leah.  But  she  did  not  hear  "  the 
moaning  of  the  harbor  bar.  " 


aya  ^  4iiiOK£^N  WUDDINia-HING^ 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

A  CT.EAR  frosty  day  in  November,  the  first  after  Hettie*9 
arrival  at  Brentwood,  the  sun  shining  brightly  and  the 
crisp  air  full  of  new  life.  Leah  said  that  the  lovely 
weather  was  sent  for  her  sister's  benefit,  that  she  might 
see  Brentwood  at  its  best. 

Hettie  was  made  to  feel  perfectly  at  home.  Her 
costly  outfit  was  all  packed  away  in  the  fine  old  oaken 
wardrobes;  she  had  arranged  her  rooms  according  to  her 
own  idea  of  what  was  best,  and  her  favorite  books  were 
all  in  their  places.  The  sisters  had  enjoyec^  making  these 
arrangements,  and  the  general  was  happier  than  he  had 
ever  been  in  his  life  before.  He  rejoiced  when  he  heard 
the  sound  of  the  two  voices.  The  happy,  sunny  laughter 
was  music  in  his  ears  ;  and,  after  a  day's  shooting,  he  was 
never  so  happy  in  the  drawing-room,  when  flinner  was 
over,  as  when  comparing  the  two  faces,  each  so  beautiful 
iu  its  own  way. 

The  general  and  his  nieces  were  at  breakfast  together, 
and  ap  argument  arose  as  to  whether  three  in  a  family,  or 
in  ordinary  life,  were  not  better  than  two.  Hettie  solved 
the  question  at  once, — 

"Two  persons  may  have  the  same  ideas,  the  same 
opinions  and  thought,  and  thus  may  agree  perfectly ;  but 
no  three  persons  could  possibly  be  alike.  I  should  think, 
uncle, "  she  continued,  gayly,  "  that  in  our  case  it  would 
be  Leah  and  yourself  who  would  agree  about  everything, 
and  I  who  should  naturally  oppose  both. " 

By  this  time  Sir  Arthur  and  his  niece  were  close 
friends.  They  paid  due  respect  and  did  homage  to  the 
fine  and  noble  qualities  they  sav/  in  each  other,    llettie 


49  BROK&I^  WEDDING-RING.  273 

had  all  the  gentle,  graceful  tact  of  a  well-bred,  refined 
gentlewoman;  she  never  touched  on  topics  which  she 
knew  annoyed  Sir  Arthur  or  irritated  him.  Once  having 
become  friends,  they  could  have  lived  together  forever 
without  one  word  or  shadow  of  disagreement.  Sir  Arthur 
reaUzed  that  his  happiness  was  decidedly  increased.  He 
looked  forward  with  pleasure  to  the  fact  that  Hettie 
would  be  always  with  them.  At  first,  remembering  the 
long  and  pleasant  conversations  that  he  had  had  with 
Leah,  he  had  fancied  the  new-comer  might  be  in  the  way. 
He  found  that  it  was  just  the  reverse — indeed  that  she 
added  to  their  happiness. 

The  general  had  determined  that,  as  soon  as  they 
were  settled,  he  would  give  a  series  of  entertainments, 
and  that  Hettie  should  be  introduced  to  the  great  world. 
There  need  be  no  concealment,  no  mystery ;  she  was 
Leah's  sister,  and  she  had  been  living  with  a  relative  who 
now  was  dead.  He  was  still  desirous,  if  it  could  be  man- 
aged, that  it  should  not  be  known  to  the  world  in  general 
that  they  were  the  daughters  of  Martin  Ray. 

"  I  must  have  a  long  talk  with  Leah  this  morning," 
he  said  to  himself,  "  and  later  on  I  must  see  Basil.  I 
have  much  to  say  to  him ;  but  the  chances  are  that  he 
will  not  return  to-day.     I  must  wait.  " 

When  breakfast  was  over,  the  general  went  to  his 
study,  where  the  Times  and  various  other  newspapers 
awaited  him.  There  was  no  fear  of  his  meeting  with  any 
more  strong  articles  denouncing  Martin  Ray.  He  could 
open  a  newspaper  now  without  hesitation.  He  was  soon 
engrossed  in  some  article  on  British  rule  in  India,  while 
the  two  sisters  went  out  of  doors.  The  morning  was  too 
bright  and  too  sunny  to  be  lost. 

*•  I  will  show  you  some  of  my  favorite  nooks,  Hettie,  " 
said  Leah.  "I  like  this  terrace  better  than  any  other 
part.     See  what  a  magnificent  view  there  is  of  hill  and 


2^4  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

dale,  stream  and  meadow,  rich  farm-land  and  picturesque 
woods.     All  that  belongs  to  my  uncle." 

"And  will  one  day  belong  to  you,  Leah,"  returned  her 
sister.  "  Ah  !  my  darling,  you  were  born  to  be  a  great 
lady  I    Nothing  else  would  have  suited  you." 

"  I  should  like  it  all  the  better  if  you  were  to  share  it/' 
she  said,  quickly  ;  and  Hettie  knew  that  she  was  speaking 
sincerely. 

"  I  was  never  intended  to  be  a  great  lady,"  declared 
Hettie.  "  If  I  had  had  my  choice  in  life,  I  should  have 
preferred  a  pretty  home,  neither  very  luxurious  nor  very 
poor — a  house  among  flowers  and  trees — and  some  one  to 
love  me — to  love  me  very  much,  more  than  all  the  world. 
I  envy  no  one  wealth  or  fortune  cr  fame,  but  I  envy  every 
one  who  is  blessed  with  love." 

For  a  moment  the  two  girls  looked  at  each  other  in 
silence,  and  then  Leah  spoke, — 

"  Come  to  the  end  of  the  terrace,  Hettie,"  she  said ; 
"  from  that  trellis-work  you  will  see  all  down  the  avenue 
and  drive.  Sit  down  in  this  sunny  nook  and  let  us  talk 
here.  The  morning  is  not  too  cold.  Do  you  see  ail  this 
tangle  of  faded  green  and  dried  branches  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Hettie,  wondering. 

"  In  the  summer  that  presents  the  finest  show  of  pas- 
sion-flowers in  England ;  they  grow  all  over  the  trellis- 
work,  and  even  spread  down  to  the  terrace  below.  They 
•  are  of  all  colors — brown,  purple  and  the  one  I  love  best, 
rich  scarlet ;  they  spread  like  a  great  vine.  Do  you  like 
passion-flowers,  Hettie  ? " 

"  Yes,  but  not  so  well  as  roses  and  lilies.  They  are  too 
sad  and  too  mystical  for  me." 

"And  I  like  them  best  of  any  flowers.  I  wonder,  Het- 
tie, what  there  is  in  me  which  inclines  me  always  to  like 
what  is  sad  better  than  what  is  bright  and  happy?  I  wonr 
der  if  ever  I  should  be  perfectly  happy  ?  " 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  275 

"  Are  you  not  perfectly  happy  now,  Leah — so  beautiful, 
BO  rich,  so  gifted,  so  beloved  ? " 

Leah,  thinking  of  the  shadow  that  she  saw  at  times  on 
her  lover's  face,  answered, — 

'*  No,  not  perfectly.  I  do  not  know  why.  I  have  not 
a  tangible  sorrow,  I  have  not  even  a  very  defined  shadow 
ot  trouble  ;  yet  I  could  not  from  my  heart  say  that  I  am 
perfectly  happy." 

"  How  strange  ! "  said  simple  Hettie.  "  Perhaps,  Leah, 
you  have  one  of  those  natures  that  nothing  on  earth  can 
render  content.  They  are  so  noble,  so  lofty,  the  little  loves 
and  little  cares  of  this  world  do  not  satisfy  them,  and  never 
will." 

"  How  strange  it  seems  to  me  to  hear  you,  Hettie,  talk 
in  that  fashion  !  "  said  Leah,  with  a  smile  ;  but  she  sighed  as 
she  thought  that,  if  Basil  loved  her  with  the  same  worship- 
ping love  she  gave  to  him,  she  would  be  perfectly  happy. 

*'  I  have  read  of  people,*'  c;ontinued  Hettie,  "  who  are 
never  quite  happy,  who  always  want  something  better  than 
they  have,  who  are  filled  with  an  indefinite  longing,  yet 
who  have  no  idea  what  chey  long  for.  Do  you  know,Leah, 
that  even  when  you  were  quite  child  I  noticed  something 
in  your  face — a  story,  a  shadow,  a  something  quite  different 
from  the  expression  in  other  faces.  You  have  it  now — a 
shadow  in  your  eyes.  I  cannot  express  in  words  just  what 
I  mean.  You  always  looked  restless,  as  though  you  were 
expecting  something  which  never  came." 

*'  I  ought  not  to  have  that  now,"  said  Leah,  "  for  I 
have  found  what  I  wanted — that  for  which  I  hungered." 

"  Have  you,  Leah  ?  " — and  the  blue  eyes  looked  wist- 
fully into  the  dark  ones,  '*  I  have  thought  so." 

"  I  brought  you  here,  Hettie,  to  tell  you  about  it.  I 
would  not  tell  you  until  I  could  show  you  the  very  spot 
where  I  saw  him  first.  I  want  to  tell  you,  Hettie,  because 
you  must  love  him  too.     I  was  sittmg  here  one  lovely 


2^6  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

summei  morning,  a  morning  that  stands  quite  apart  from 
the  rest  of  my  life.  The  sun  was  shining  ;  the  river  in 
the  distance  there  was  like  a  line  of  silver;  the  sweet 
morning  air  stirred  the  leaves  and  flowers ;  the  exquisite 
passion-flowers  were  all  in  bloom,  and  I  stood  here  among 
them,  looking  over  this  beautiful  scene  that  has  scarcely 
an  equal.  In  the  distance  I  saw  my  uncle  walking  up  the 
avenue  with  a  stranger.  I  looked  in  the  stranger's  face 
and  met  my  fate.  Do  you  understand  a  swift,  keen,  subtle 
love  like  that,  Hettie  ? 

"  Yes,"  was  the  whispered  reply. 

"  He  came  on  my  life  as  the  sun  breaks  upon  the 
flowers — suddenly,  swiftly — and  changed  it  all.  What  you 
say  of  me  is  quite  true,  Hettie  ;  I  had  a  restless  fever  on 
me.  My  life  was  all  longing — nothing  satisfied  or  con- 
tented me  ;  but  when  I  saw  him,  ap  exquisite  calm  came 
over  me,  like  the  full  shining  of  the  noonday  sun  on  a 
broad,  quiet  sea.  My  life  grew  suddenly  complete.  Ah, 
Hettie,  how  good  it  is  to  be  able  to  talk  to  you  !  I  had  al- 
ways thought  that  I  should  meet  my  lover  in  this  way — 
that  some  day  I  should  come  face  to  face  with  him,  and  rec- 
ognize him.  I  did  so.  You  will  think  me  strange,  I  am 
afraid  Hettie  ;  but,  before  I  had  spoken  to  him,  I  had  said  to 
myself,  *  This  is  my  love  come  from  land  or  sea.*  I  stood 
just  where  you  are  sitting,  Hettie,  and  I  had  a  cluster  of 
passion  flowers  in  my  hand.  A  great  love  is  like  a  great 
wave  of  the  sea ;  it  sweeps  over  all  before  it,  and  bears 
everything  away.  A  wave  of  love  swept  over  me.  I  be- 
lieve that,  had  any  one  asked  me,  I  could  not  have  told  my 
own  name." 

Hettie's  fair  face  grew  paler  and  more  wistful. 

"  Ah  !  Leah,"  said  she,  "  such  a  great  love  could  never 
De  a  happy  one  ;  it  c^uld  not  end  happily  !  * 

Leah  smiled,  a  gentle,  tender  smile,  which  spread  from 
her  eyes  to  her  lips. 


A  BROKE  AT  WEDDING-RING.  277 

•*  In  most  cases  I  grant  that  that  is  the  case,"  she  re- 
plied ;  "  but  in  mine — mine Ah  !  Heaven  be  thanked, 

mine  is  a  happy  love,  and  will  have  a  happy  ending  !  I 
was  going  to  tell  you,  Hettie,  that  we  shall  be  married 
soon." 

Hettie  threw  her  arms  around  her  sister's  neck  and 
kissed  the  expressive  face. 

"  Is  it  true  ?  I  am  so  glad — O,  Leah  !  I  am  so  glad  ; 
for,  of  all  things  in  the  world,  love  is  best !  I  am  so  glad  I 
Then  I  have  found  you  only  to  lose  you  again  ? " 

"  You  will  never  lose  me,  nor  shall  I  lose  you,"  said 
Leah,  "  I  am  sure  that  you  will  love  him,  first  for  my 
sake,  then  for  his  own  ;  he  is  so  noble,  so  good.  Ah  \ 
Hettie,  I  see  such  a  happy  life  stretching  out  before  me ! 
I  can  hardly  speak  of  it  without  tears ;  "  and  into  the  dark 
eyes  came  a  mist,  while  the  proud  curves  of  the  beautiful 
mouth  softened.  "  We  are  like  two  sisters  in  a  fairy  tale,'* 
she  continued.  "  How  strange,  Hettie,  that  we  should  be 
together  again  !  I  have  told  you  my  little  love  story  ;  tell 
me  yours,  if  you  have  one." 

Over  the  fair  face  of  the  younger  girl  there  fell  a 
shadow 

"  Mine  is  not  like  yours ;  "  she  said.  "  It  was  not  a. 
great  love  that  came  to  me  all  at  once  ;  it  crept  into  my 
heart  little  by  little,  and  was  there  before  I  knew  anything 
about  it ;  and  then,  when  I  found  it,  I  knew  that  it  must 
die.  It  has  no  happy  ending,  my  love  story.  Yours  will 
end  in  marriage  ;  mine  has  ended  in  parting  and  sorrow." 

"  Is  it  so,  Hettie  ?  I  am  grieved.  How  was  it  ?  Will 
this  change  in  your  life  make  any  difference  ?  " 

"  No ;  it  was  all  over,  dead  and  buried,  before  the 
change  came.  Nothing  can  make  any  difference.  There 
never  was  any  hope.  We  did  not  know,  either  of  us ;  it 
came  upon  us  unconsciously," 

** Hettie/'  whispered  Leah,  "will  you  tell  me  about  it? 


B78  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

Not  unless  you  like — not  if  it  distresses  you.  But,  if  1 
knew,  perhaps  I  could  help  you." 

"  I  should  like  to  tell  you,  Leah ;  but  I  have  always 
been  afraid  it  would  distress  you." 

"  Never  mind  that,  Hettie  ;  tell  me  about  it.  iNo  one 
can  understand  it  better  than  I." 

"  There  is  so  little  to  tell,"  replied  Hettie,  "  that  I  am 
almost  ashamed  to  call  it  a  love-story.  It  is  more  like  a 
dream,  only  it  ended  more  quickly  than  most  dreams  do." 
As  she  spoke  her  eyes,  with  a  far-away  look,  were  fixed  on 
the  winding  river  and  the  dark  masses  of  wood.  "  I  was 
so  busy  all  my  life,  Leah,"  she  said,  "  that  I  had  no  time 
to  think  about  love.  I  do  not  believe  that  during  the  last 
two  years  of  my  father's  life  I  had  one  leisure  hour.  Yet 
within  me  must  have  been  the  longing  for  love  and  a  lov- 
ing heart.  Quite  by  accident  I  met  some  one.  He  came 
to  see  my  father ;  and  I  and  my  father  liked  him.  We 
saw  each  other  not  only  every  day,  but  sometimes  twice  in 
the  day.  My  life  was  so  hard,  and  he  was  so  kind  to  me. 
that  I  looked  forward  to  seeing  him  as  the  only  gleam  of 
happiness  I  had.  When  he  went  away,  he  left  the  music 
of  his  voice  with  me.  Ah,  Leah,  I  was  mad  !  All  love  is 
madness.  I  grew  to  love  him  with  my  whole  heart,  and 
did  not  know  it.  When  I  closed  my  eyes  at  night,  it  was 
to  dream  of  him  ;  when  I  opened  them  in  the  daylight,  it 
was  to  see  his  face.  One  day  he  came  to  say  good-by  to 
me.  He  was  pale  as  death,  and  his  voice  shook  with 
pain.  *  I  must  go,'  he  said  to  me ;  but  I — oh,  Leah,  how 
could  I  do  it  ? — I  clung  to  his  arm.  We  were  both  stand- 
ing watching  the  waves  break  upon  the  shore,  and  I  cried 
to  him  not  to  go.  My  father  was  ill  and  my  life  so  gloomy ; 
I  felt  that,  if  ho  went  away,  I  must  die,  I  could  not  live. 
He  seemed  sadly  distressed.  *  I  cannot  stay  with  you,* 
he  said  ;  *  it  is  impossible.'  I  should  not  like  to  tell  any 
one  but  you,  Leah.    I  clung  to  him,  still  weeping.    H© 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  279 

was  all  the  world  to  me — all  the  world.  *  Stay  with  me- 
at least  until  my  father  is  better,  and  the  darkest  hour  of 
my  trouble  is  past.'  Oh,  Leah,  much  as  I  love  you,  I  am 
ashamed  to  tell  you  the  rest !  " 

Hettie  buried  her  face  in  her  hands  and  wept  aloud ; 
while  Leah  wonderd  why  her  fate  should  be  so  much  bet* 
ter,  brighter,  and  happier  than  her  sister's. 


CHAPTER  XLIIL 


It  was  some  comfort  to  Hettie  to  have  her  tears  kissed 
away,  to  feel  loving  hands  take  hers,  and  loving  lips  touch 
her  forehead. 

"  Tell  me  all  abouf  it»  dear,  and  then  we  will  forget  it.  I 
will  try  all  I  can  for  the  remainder  of  your  life  and  mine 
to  make  you  happy,  and  to  atone  to  you  for  this  unhappy 
love." 

"  I  have  so  little  to  tell  you,"  said  Hettie,  "  and  I  am 
so  much  ashamed  of  it.  I  asked  him  to  stay  just  a  little 
with  me,  but  he  said  *  No,'  he  must  go  ;  and  I  asked  him 
why.  It  all  came  out  then,  Leah.  He  did  love  me  ;  he 
loved  me  with  all  his  heart.  Ah  me,  if  you  could  have 
seen  his  face — the  sorrow  on  it  which  no  words  could  de- 
scribe. He  did  love  me — living  and  dying,  it  will  com- 
fort me  to  remember  that.  I  shall  never  know  love  again  ; 
but  he  loved  me ;  there  was  love  unutterable  in  his  eyes  when 
he  looked  at  me.  Only  think,  Leah,  I  have  had  but  ten 
minutes'  real  happiness  in  my  life,  and  that  was  when  I 
first  found  out  that  he  loved  me — before  I  knew  what 
stood  between  us.  Leah,  the  great  sea  lay  before  us ;  the 
wind  brought  the  brine  of  the  ocean  and  the  fragrance 
from  the  meadows.    I  would  go  through  a  lifetime  of  tor- 


98o  ^  LROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

ture  for  one  such  hour  again.  He  told  me  why  he  must 
go.  What,  of  all  the  reasons  in  the  world,  should  you 
think  it  was  ?  " 

"  Was  it  that  he  was  rich  and  you  were  poor,  Hettie  ?  * 
asked  Leah. 

"No  ;  he  cared  nothing  about  that.** 

"  Was  it  " — and  Leah  lowered  her  voice — "  anything 
about  our  father,  Hettie  ? " 

**  No ;  he  liked  my  father ;  he  respected  his  peculiar 
ideas,  and — would  you  believe  it,  Leah  ? — came  often  to 
discuss  matters  with  him.  No,  it  was  nothing  about  my 
father.  You  would  never  guess,  Leah  ;  it  is  too  cruel  to 
guess.  He  did  love  me  ;  and  he  told  me  that  because  he 
loved  me  he  must  go  away  and  never  see  my  face  again. 
Even  while  he  said  it  all  his  great  love  was  shining  in  his 
eyes.  And  the  reason  was  this — that  he  was  engaged  to 
marry  some  one  whom  I  am  sure  he  did  not  love.  He 
told  me  that  a  certain  train  of  circumstances  had  'ed  to 
his  engagement,  and  that  he  himself,  mistaking  the  friendly, 
kindly  admiration  he  had  for  the  lady  for  love,  had  asked 
her  to  be  his  wife.  Ah,  Leah,  how  mucn  unhappy  love 
there  is  in  the  world  !  He  told  me  that  this  girl  whom  he 
was  engaged  to  marry  would  die  if  he  left  her,  and  that 
unknown  to  himself  he  had  learned  to  love  me  with  all  his 
heart ;  it  was  for  that  reason — it  was  because  he  loved  me 
and  could  not  ask  me  to  be  his  wife — that  we  parted,  nevei 
in  this  world  to  meet  again." 

"  What  a  sad  story,  Hettie  !  "  cried  Leah. 

If  she  had  but  known,  if  she  had  but  guessed  who 
It  was  that  had  thus  loved  Hettie,  she  might  have  died 
then  and  there. 

"  You  must  not  think,"  said  Hettie,  "  that  he  was  want- 
ing in  loyalty  and  honor;  he  was  engaged,  promised 
pledged  to  this  other,  and  he  had  no  thought  of  loving  me. 
Neither  of  us  knew  or  thought  of  it  until  all  at  once  the 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  281 

truth  came  upon  us  like:  a  great  blinding  light ;  then  honor 
told  him  that  he  must  go." 

"  I  think  he  was  cruel  to  you,  Hettie,"  saic?  Leah,  all 
unconscious  whom  she  was  judging. 

"  No ;  he  did  not  intend  to  be  cruel ;  he  did  not  know. 
It  came  on  us  all  at  once,  just  as  when  people  think  they 
are  wading  through  a  shallow  brook  and  suddenly  find 
themselves  in  a  deep  stream.  He  could  never  have  been 
cruel ;  he  was  the  most  gentle,  the  most  chivalrous " 

"  He  should  have  thought  more  of  the  danger  that  you 
ran ;  the  fact  that  you  were  lonely  and  friendless  should 
have  made  him  all  the  more  cautious  for  you." 

"  I  do  not  think  that  love  often  reasons,"  said  Hettie. 
"  There  was  not  much  harm  done." 

"  Only  two  lives  spoiled,"  put  in  Leah,  sadly. 

**I  will  not  call  mine  spoiled,"  said  Hettie.  "  I  would 
rather  have  loved  him,  and  loved  him  unhappily,  than  have 
been  the  beloved  wife  of  any  other  man.  Mine  will  be  a  life 
apart ;  but  I  will  not  call  it  spoiled.  That  night,  Leah,  he 
kissed  me.  No  man  had  kissed  me  before  ;  no  man  shall  ever 
kiss  me  again.  On  that  night,  Leah,  just  for  one  minute, 
he  took  me  in  his  arms  and  held  me  there  ;  and  until  I  die 
no  arms  shall  clasp  me  again.  I  suffer  pain  ;  yet  even  my 
pain  is  sweet  arid  pleasant  to  me.  Sometimes  I  think  that 
we  quiet  women  can  suffer  deeper  pain  than  women  of 
more  passionate  natures.  That  other,  whom  my  love  will 
marry,  said  she  should  die  if  she  lost  him.  I  love  him  as 
much,  but  it  will  not  kill  me.'* 

*'  Would  you  wish  that  it  might,  Hettie  ? "  asked  Leah. 

"  No.  I  love  you,  and  I  shall  find  out  many  pleasures 
in  life ;  but  I  shall  be  true  as  steel  to  my  lost  love.  I  wish 
you  could  have  seen  him,  Leah.  To  have  loved  one  such, 
even  if  unhappily,  is  joy  enough  for  a  lifetime.  I  have 
told  you  my  love  story,  dear,  and  you  will  now  know  whv  as 
I  go  through  life,  aU  men  will  be  to  me  but  as  shadows." 


282  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

**  I  hope  it  will  not  be  so,  Hettie.  As  the  years  %o  on 
you  will  forget  this  incident,  which  is  but  a  dream,  and 
meet  with  some  one  who  will  make  you  happy." 

Hettie  shook  her  golden  head.  Could  any  other  man 
have  such  a  face  as  the  man  who  had  kissed  her  by  the 
sea  ?  Could  any  one  ever  replace  him  ?  She  laughed  the 
idea  to  scorn. 

*'  How  strange,  Leah,"  she  said,  "  that  we  two  sisters 
have  a  fate  so  different !  To  you — mind,  darling  I  do  not 
envy  you — I  am  not  even  ever  so  slightly  jealous  of  you 
— to  you  everything  has  come,  even  love." 

"  You  forget  one  thing,"  remarked  Leah.  "  You  had 
your  father's  blessing.  I  had  his  curse  ;  although  no  harm 
has  followed  it,  still  it  lies  upon  me." 

"  I  have  wondered,"  said  Hettie,  with  a  sad  smile^ 
**  whether  it  has  not  fallen  on  me  by  mistake." 

"No,  I  am  quite  sure  it  has  not,"  declared  Leah, 
warmly.  "  You  deserve  every  blessing.  My  life  is  not 
finished  ;  it  may  overtake  me  yet" — words  which  she  after- 
wards remembered  as  prophetic. 

Just  at  that  moment  the  general  came  down  the  terrace 
to  them. 

"In  your  favorite  spot,  Leah  ?"  he  said.  "  Do  you 
know  how  long  you  girls  have  been  talking  ?  More  than 
an  hour.  What  is  it  about  .^  Neither  bonnets  nor  lovers, 
of  that  I  am  sure." 

Neither  sister  spoke  ;  and  then  Sir  Arthur  saw  that 
each  face  was  pale  and  grave.  He  thought  to  himself  that 
they  had  probably  been  speaking  of  their  father. 

*'  Leah,  I  want  you,"  he  said.  "  I  will  not  keep  you 
very  long  ;  but  I  should  like  to  talk  to  you  before  Basil 
comes." 

Hettie  heard  the  name,  and  repeated  it  to  herself. 
-*  Basil .?  '*  It  was  an  unusual  name,  and  one  she  had  hardly 
heard  before. 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  283 

"That  must  be  Leah's  lover,"  she  said.  "Happy 
Leah  !     Heaven  bless  her  !  " 

No  knight  would  ride  down  the  avenue  to  woo  her. 
She  wondered  if  many  women  gave  their  lives  for  love. 

"  Come  to  the  library,  Leah,"  said  the  general.  "  I 
like  bracing,  clear,  frosty  weather  like  this  ;  but  I  felt  a 
twinge  in  my  right  arm  this  morning,  and  I  must  not  neg- 
lect  it."  Seeing  that  Hettie  looked  at  him  inquiringly,  he 
continued  :  "  An  old  wound  is  like  an  old  friend.  I  received 
a  sword-cut  on  this  arm  more  than  twenty  years  ago,  and 
sometimes  on  very  cold  days  it  teases  me  even  now  ;  the 
moral  of  which  is  that  it  is  easier  to  give  a  wound  than  to 
cure  a  wound.  Do  not  leave  your  cozy  corner,  Hettie  ;  I 
will  send  Leah  back  to  you  in  ten  miAutes." 

As  they  walked  down  the  terrace  together,  Hettie  won- 
dered if  the  time  would  ever  come  when  they  would  dis- 
cuss matters  before  her,  if  she  would  ever  be  really  one  of 
themselves,  if,  when  Leah  was  married,  she  would  take 
her  place  in  her  uncle's  confidence. 

Not  caring  to  watch  Leah  and  her  uncle,  Hettie  looked 
down  the  avenue,  and  saw  a  gentleman  walking  up  to  the 
house.  She  drew  back,  thinking  that  it  was  some  visitor 
for  the  general,  and  the  next  minute  had  forgotten  all 
about  the  occurrence. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 


Sir  Basil  walked  slowly  up  the  avenue  ;  he  looked 
tired  and  pale — not  at  all  like  a  gay  bridegroom.  Shadows 
in  his  eyes  told  of  sleepless  nights,  of  weary  days,  of  sad 
thoughts.  Yet  he  had  in  his  manner  something  of  the  man 
who  has  fought  a  good  fight  and  has  overcome.      He  re* 


284  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING'RING, 

fleeted,  as  he  walked  between  the  long  lines  of  leafless 
trees,  that  after  all  he  was  more  fortunate  than  many  men. 
He  had  known  the  rapture  of  true  love,  even  though  it  had 
lasted  so  short  a  time.  Many  men  lived  and  died  without 
ever  knowing  one  such  hour  as  had  fallen  to  his  lot  by  the 
sweet  southern  sea.  The  glow  of  it,  the  warmth  of  it, 
would  last  him  through  life,  even  through  the  chill  of  long 
years. 

How  well  he  remembered  the  first  morning  that  h& 
came  to  Brentwood,  and  the  beautiful  face  shining  in  the 
midst  of  the  passion-flowers  !  What  a  fatal  morning  it  had 
been  for  him  !  He  could  recall  the  peculiar  expression  of 
Leah's  face  the  first  moment  her  eyes  met  his  ;  and  she 
had  told  him  since,  that  in  that  first  moment  she  had  loved 
him.  How  loving  and  faithful  she  had  been  to  him  ever 
since  !  How  many  men  would  give  their  lives  for  the  love 
she  lavished  on  him — and  he  was  so  cold  !  He  made  many 
good  resolutions  as  he  walked  up  the  avenue,  where  the 
November  sun  shone  brightly  through  the  bare  branches. 
lie  would  be  more  loving  to  her.  Never  again  should  his 
thoughts  rove  to  the  fair,  pale  face  that  had  lain  on  his 
breast  for  five  minutes,  never  to  lie  there  again.  He 
would  forget  it,  and  think  of  the  beautiful  face  that  had 
smiles  only  for  him.  He  would  be  loving  and  loyal  to  her, 
and  in  time  Heaven  would  send  him  peace.  No  man  was 
either  great  or  wise,  or  truly  noble  until  he  had  suffered  pain. 
It  was  the  lot  of  every  man  ;  some  live  without  pleasure, 
happiness,  or  love,  but  no  one  lives  without  pain. 

"1  will  make  it  all  up  to  her,"  he  thought;  and  then 
through  the  leafless  trees  he  saw  the  terraces  and  the  pretty 
balustrade  where  the  great  clusters  of  passion-flowers 
grew  in  summer — the  very  spot  in  which  he  had  first  seen 
her ;  and,  unless  he  was  mistaken,  she  was  there  now. 
Yes,  he  could  see  the  folds  of  a  long  black  dress  on  the 
white  stone  of  the  terrace  j  he  could  see  one  white  hand 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING  28 


lying  idly  on  the  ledge  where  the  brown  tendrils  looked 
withered  and  dead.  She  was  surely  there  ;  she  had  told 
him  she  loved  that  spot  best,  because  it  was  there  she  had 
seen  him  firstc  She  was  looking  toward  the  house. 
He  would  go  to  her  noiselessly  and  take  her  in  his  arms  ; 
He  would  kiss  her  and  say  loving  words  to  her. 

He  went  quietly  up  the  great  white  steps,  where  the 
marble  statues  stood  and  the  huge  vases  were  filled  with 
evergreens,  round  the  great  clusters  of  almond-trees  to  the 
corner  that  Leah  loved  best.  He  smiled  to  himself.  Ah, 
he  was  not  mistaken  ! 

A  tall,  slender  figure  stood  there,  with  a  black  dress 
trailing  on  the  steps,  a  white  hand  resting  on  the  balustrade. 
He  could  not  see  her  face  or  head,  for  she  was  looking 
toward  the  house.  Should  he  call  her  name  ?  If  he  uttered 
but  one  word,  she  would  turn  to  him  with  her  face  all 
bright  with  glad  and  happy  love.  No ;  he  would  go  up  to 
her  and  clasp  her  in  his  arms  and  kiss  her,  while  he  made 
her  guess  who  he  was. 

One  arm  was  half  round  her,  and  his  dark  handsome 
head  bent  over  her  before  he  perceived  that  the  beautiful 
masses  of  hair  were  of  gold.  The  next  moment  the  fair 
face  seemed  to  flash  into  his  own,  a  cry  came  from  the 
pale  lips,  a  great  shock  overwhelmed  them. 

There  was  a  terrible  moment  of  fear  and  pain,  of  be- 
wilderment and  surprise,  followed  by  a  deep  silence  that 
was  full  of  agony.  Then  faintly  from  him  came  the  name 
"  Hettie  ! " — so  tremulously  spoken  that  it  was  like  a 
sigh. 

"  Hettie,"  he  repeated,  "  is  it  you  ?  " 

She  shrank  back  with  a  little  wailing  cry,  which  seemed 
to  go  straight  to  his  heart. 

Could  it  be  Hettie  ?  Was  that  the  golden  head  which 
had  Iain  for  a  few  happy  minutes  on  his  breast  ?  Was 
that  the  fair  pale  face  which  he  had  covered  with  kisses 


286  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

and  tears  ?    Could  it  be  the  girl  whom  he  had  left  by  the 
sea,  never  to  meet  again  ? 

"  It  is  really  Hettie,"  he  said ;  and  he  laid  his  hand 
upon  hers,  as  though  he  half  fancied  she  would  melt  into 
thin  air.  "  I  cannot  trust  my  own  eyes.  Speak  one  word 
to  me.     Are  you  really  Hettie  Ray  ? " 

He  had  seen  her  last  in  her  homely  dress,  plainly  made 
of  plain  material,  in  the  midst  of  her  homely  surroundings. 
Now  she  stood  arrayed  in  costly  silk,  with  great  folds  of 
crape,  with  an  air  of  distinction  and  elegance,  a  certain  subtle 
change — more  fair  and  lovely  than  ever  in  his  eyes — 
Hettie  still,  but  a  very  different  Hettie  from  the  simply- 
dressed  maiden  he  had  known  at  Southwood. 

She  raised  her  blue  eyes  and  looked  at  him. 

"  Do  you  not  know  me?"  she  said  reproachfully.  "  Surely 
I  am  Hettie  Ray,  just  as  surely  as  I  am  the  most  miserable 
girl  in  the  wide  world." 

"  Hettie,  Hettie  what  brought  you  here  ?  '*  He  made 
no  attempt  to  caress  her.  He  drew  back  from  her,  and 
looked  at  her  with  wild,  troubled  eyes.  *'  What  brought 
you  here  ? "  he  repeated.  "  I  have  tried  my  best  ;  I  have 
fought  a  fiercer  fight  with  my  heart  than  any  man  ever 
fought ;  and  now,  when  I  had  begun  to  hope  for  peace,  you 
rise  from  the  very  ground,  as  it  were  before  me.  Hettie, 
in  Heaven's  name,  tell  me  what  brings  you  here  ?  " 

The  face  before  him  was  miserable  enough ;  there  was 
ihe  very  anguish  of  woe  in  the  blue  eyes. 

"  Do  you  not  know,"  she  said  slowly,  "  who  I  am  ?  " 

"  You  are  Hettie  Ray,"  he  replied. 

"  Alas,  alas  ! "  she  cried,  wringing  her  hands.  "  I 
begin  to  see  now ;  I  begin  to  understand.  What  have  I 
done  that  Heaven  should  punish  me  so  ?  What  have  J 
done  ? " 

"Hettie,"  he  said,  gently,  "I  do  not  understand 
What  is  the  matter  ?  " 


A  BROKEN-  WEDDING-RING.  287 

**  Who  are  you  ? "  she  cried.  She  stood  before  him, 
with  her  hands  clasped,  her  pale  face  raised,  hanging  as  it 
were  on  the  words  that  were  to  fall  from  his  lips.  "  Who 
are  you  ?  "  she  repeated.  "  Do  not  keep  me  in  suspense 
Tell  me  quickly." 

Still  no  glimmer  of  the  truth  came  to  him.  He  won* 
dered  at  the  intense  anxiety  of  her  manner. 

*'  I  forgot,"  he  said ;  "  you  never  knew  my  name.  I  am 
Sir  Basil  Carlton  of  Glen." 

She  repeated  the  words  after  him,  her  white  lips  trem- 
bling.   They  brought  no  memory  to  her. 

**  Sii  Basil  Carlton  ! "  she  repeated.  "  I  do  not  mean 
that.  Who  are  you  ?  Tell  me  for  Heaven's  sake,  are  you 
Leah's  Hance  ?  They  said  he  was  coming  to-day.  Heaven 
cannot  be  so  cruel — you  are  not  \.^2^' s fiance  T* 

"  I  am  Leah's  lover,  my  poor  darling,"  he  said,  sadly. 

"  And  she  loves  you  so  !  Oh  !  how  has  it  happened  ? 
We  were  talking  about  you  the  other  day — no,  this  morn- 
ing ;  it  seems  to  me  long  since  she  told  me  about  her 
lover,  and  how  she  loved  him.  O,  Heaven,  how  it  all  comes 
ba\.k  to  me  !     I  told  her  such  a  great  love  could  never  be 

a  happy  one  ;  but  how  little  I  thought "    She  paused, 

and  thv.n,  after  a  minute's  silence,  she  looked  at  him  again. 
"  You,"  she  said — "  you  are  Leah's  lover.  She  loves  you 
so  dearly,  she  said  she  should  die  if  she  were  parted  from 
you.  And  you — I  remember  you  told  me  that  you  did  not 
love  her,  that  it  was  circumstances  which  had  led  to  the 
engagement.  And  she  loves  you  so  !  Oh,  hapless  Leah, 
oh,  miserable,  thrice-wretched  me  !  " 

She  shrank  back,  crouching  against  the  withered  sprays 
of  the  passion-flowers.  All  her  strength  and  youth  seemed 
to  leave  her  ;  her  white  face  and  wild  eyes  were  terribla 
to  see. 

Half  frightened  because  of  hcr  despair,  he  drew  nearei 
to  her. 
•     10 


288  A  BROKEN  WEDDlNG'RmG. 

"  Hettie,"  he  said,  "  what  is  Leah  to  you  ?  Tell  me 
who  you  are." 

"  Do  you  not  know  ?  "  she  said.  "  Have  they  not  told 
you  ?  " 

"  Told  me  what  ?  "  he  cried.     "  What  is  it  ?  " 

A  sickening  sense  of  insecurity  came  to  her.  If  neither 
Leah  nor  Sir  Arthur  had  said  anything  to  him,  what  could 
she  say  ?  Was  he  to  know  all  about  her  ?  If  she  told 
him  that  she  was  Leah's  sister,  and  that  they  were  both 
daughters  of  Martin  Ray,  what  would  happen  ? 

Her  heart  grew  faint  with  dread  and  pain.  She  held  out 
her  hands  to  him  with  an  imploring  gesture. 

"  Do  you  not  know  }  "  she  said.  "  Can  you  not  guess 
who  I  am  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  ?  Why,  Hettie,  what  need  is  there  for 
mystery  ?  You  can  have  nothing  to  fear  in  telling  me. 
What  brings  you,  Martin  Ray's  daughter,  here  to  Brent- 
wood, and  what  are  you  to  Leah  ?  " 

"  You  cannot  guess  ?  "  she  said.  "  You  have  no 
idea  ? " 

"  None.  I  cannot  guess.  ^  What  are  you  keeping  from 
me,  Hettie  t  " 

"  My  story  and  Leah's,"  she  replied  ;  "  and  I  cannot 
tell  it  to  you.     You  must  ask  them  to  tell  it." 

In  his  sudden  surprise  and  complete  bewilderment  he 
never  thought  of  what  Martin  Ray  had  told  him  of  his 
two  daughters  ;  all  power  of  thought  and  memory  had  gone 
from  him. 

"  Hettie,  you  have  lost  faith  in  me  1  "  he  said. 

"  No  ;  it  is  not  that.      I See,  there  is  some  one 

coming.     Do  not  let  me  be  seen." 

The  quick  footstep  of  one  oi  the  men-servants  was 
heard  on  the  terrace.  Without  a  word,  Sir  Basil  went  to 
meet  him. 

**  Sir  Arthur  would  be  glad  to  see  you  in  the  library  at 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  2S9 

once,  Sir  Basil,"  said  the  man.  If  he  felt  any  curiosity 
about  the  figure  crouching  against  the  balustrade,  he  gave 
no  sign. 

"  Say  that  I  will  be  there  in  a  few  minutes,"  was  the 
reply  ;  and  the  man  went  away. 

Sir  Basil  turned  to  Hettie. 

**  Let  me  take  you  to  the  house.  Hettie,"  he  said. 
'*  You  must  not  remain  here." 

"  I  cannot  go.  You  must  leave  me  here.  I  cannot 
walk,"  she  said  ;  "  I  cannot  stand.  Do  you  not  see  how 
I  tremble  ?    You  must  leave  me." 

He  looked  terribly  distressed. 

*'  My  darling  !  "  he  began. 

But  she  held  up  her  hand. 

"  Hush,  Basil  !  "  she  said.  **  Remember,  you  are 
Leah's  lover." 

"  I  will  not  leave,  you,  Hettie,"  he  said.  "  You  will 
faint." 

"  No  ;  do  not  fear  ;  listen  to  me.  It  will  be  all  for 
the  best.  You  go  now.  No  one  will  know  that  you  have 
seen  me,  and  they  will  tell  you  the  story.  We  must  meet 
after  that  as  strangers.     Go." 

"  Heaven  knows  that  no  man  was  ever  more  puzzled 
or  more  unhappy  than  I,"  he  said. 

Her  eyes  were  dim  with  tears  as  she  watched  him — 
Leah's  lover  ;  and  then,  as  he  went  slowly  down  the 
terrace,  a  mist  seemed  to  rise  before  her  ;  she  swayed  to 
and  fro,  staggered,  and,  helpless,  fell  suddenly  to  the 
ground. 


a^O  A  BROKEN  WEDDING*RJN(^ 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

As  he  passed  quickly  through  one  of  the  side-halls  of 
Brentwood,  Sir  Basil  caught  a  glimpse  of  his  face  in  a 
mirror,  and  started  back,  almost  frightened,  by  his  own 
reflection.  Was  that  haggard  face  his  ?  He  stood  still  for 
a  few  minutes  before  he  went  to  the  library,  to  endeavor 
to  collect  himself,  to  drive  the  weird  shadows  from  his  face 
and  eyes,  to  clear  his  brain.  Then,  when  he  was  in  some 
measure  himself,  he  went  at  once  to  the  room  where  the 
general  awaited  him. 

Sir  Arthur  was  alone,  and  so  preoccupied  with  his  own 
thoughts  that  he  did  notice  the  pallor  and  agitation  of 
Leah's  lover.  He  shook  hands  with  him,  and  welcomed 
him  home  most  heartily. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Basil,"  he  said.  "  I  assure  you 
that  some  of  us  have  found  the  past  ten  days  very  long 
ones.  We  have  had  a  very  unpleasant,  anxious  time  of  it 
since  we  parted.  I  am  thankful  it  is  over.  There  remains 
a  duty  perhaps  even  more  disagreeable,  and  that  is  to  tell 
you  a  story  which  I  would  fain  have  buried  in  oblivion." 

. "  A  story  1 "  repeated  Sir  Basil.  This,  then,  was  what 
Hettie  meant  when  she  said  "  they  "  had  something  to  tell 
him. 

"  You  will  always  remember,  Basil,  that  it  is  I  who 
have  kept  this  secret  from  you.  It  was  by  my  desire,  my 
wish  that  nothing  was  said.  Leah  would  have  had  it  other- 
wise, if  I  had  let  her  have  her  own  way.  The  fault,  if 
there  be  any  fault,  lies  with  me.  You  can  judge  when  I 
have  told  you.  Let  me  add  this — if  anything  which  I  tell 
you  should  be  adverse  to  your  tastes  and  opinions,  you 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  291 

are  as  free  as  air,  Leah  would  not  bind  you.  You  have 
but  to  say  the  word.'* 

"  Nothing  can  free  me  froni  Leah,"  he  said ;  and,  Sir 
Arthur,  in  his  satisfaction  at  the  words,  did  not  notice  the 
tone  of  the  speaker's  voice. 

"  Thank  Heaven  for  that !  Now  listen  to  my  story, 
Basil.  I  will  begin  from  my  earliest  recollection  of  the 
one  being  I  loved  then  better  than  the  whole  world — my 
little  sister." 

He  did  not  think  it  strange  that  Sir  Basil  turned  his 
face  to  the  window,  so  that  no  change  passing  over  it 
could  be  seen. 

At  first  Sir  Basil  seemed  hardly  to  realize  the  words  he 
heard — they  passed  over  him  as  it  were ;  then  they  began 
to  strike  on  his  brain.  Some  faint  glimmer  of  the  truth 
came  to  him  when  he  heard  the  name  of  Martin  Ray — 
enough  to  turn  him  faint  and  dizzy,  to  make  his  heart  beat 
wildly. 

He  never  forgot  that  hour.  From  the  window  he  saw 
the  sunshine  on  the  distant  hills  and  woods,  on  th^  bare 
branches  of  the  trees,  on  the  white  stone  terraces  and  the 
evergreens  ;  a  little  robin  redbreast  flew  up  and  down  :  the 
wind  blew  the  brown  branches  of  a  dead  guelder-rose 
against  the  window-panes.     He  never  forgot  one  detail. 

The  general's  voice  went  on  in  dull  monotone  ;  and 
presently  Sir  Basil's  attention  was  caught  and  riveted  by 
the  names  of  Leah  and  Hettie,  the  two  fair  sisters.  He 
listened  intently  as  the  general  told  him,  with  some  dram- 
atic skill,  the  story  of  the  choice  they  made.  He  was 
back  again  with  Martin  Ray  in  fancy,  listening  to  this  same 
relation,  but  told  in  so  different  a  fashion  ;  and  he  remem- 
bered with  a  bitter  pang  that  when  Martin  Ray  recited  the 
story  he  (Sir  Basil)  had  condemned  Leah — he  had  judged 
her  cold  and  selfish  ;  he  had  admired  Hettie,  the  daughter 
who  clung  to  her  father,  a  thousand  times  more  than  her 


«92  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

Who  had  left  him.  And  now  the  girl  whom  in  his  own 
mind  he  had  considered  selfish  and  heartless  was  she  whom 
he  was  to  make  his  wife.  He  blamed  himself  that  he  had 
not  discovered  the  truth  ;  it  all  seemed  now  so  easy  to  un- 
derstand. He  could  not  even  imagine  how  he  had  been  so 
blind,  save  that  it  had  never  occurred  to  him  to  connect 
Martin  Ray  and  his  family  with  the  general's  household. 

While  these  thoughts  ran  riot  through  his  brain,  the 
general  went  on  with  his  story,  and  Sir  Basil  listened  in 
silence  to  the  end. 

It  was  true  then  ;  he  the  most  unfortunate  of  men, 
stood  between  these  two  loving  sisters.  He  loved  one 
with  his  whole  heart,  and  he  was  bound  in  honor  to  marry 
the  other,  and  both  loved  him.  Was  there  ever  such  a 
misfortune  such  a  fate  \  He  was  silent  from  sheer  excess 
of  despair.  Who  could  have  thought  that  the  beautiful, 
queenly  woman  and  the  fair,  winsome  girl  were  sisters — 
one  the  very  queen  of  beauty  and  fashion,  the  other  earning 
her  living  and  supporting  her  father  by  teaching  ?  Fate 
must  have  been  laughing  at  them  when  it  led  him  to  South- 
wood. 

The  general  wondered  at  his  silence,  and,  when  he  had 
finished  his  story,  waited  for  his  young  companion  to  speak. 
Still,  Sir  Basil  sat  with  his  face  to  the  window,  silent  and 
still. 

"  You  will  understand,"  said  Sir  Arthur,  "  that  it  was 
no  question  of  social  inequality.  If  my  sister  had  married 
one  greatly  her  inferior  in  rank,  and  he  had  been  a  loyal, 
honest  man ,  I  should  have  respected  him  ;  but  a  man 
like  Martin  Ray  I  could  not  tolerate.  There  is  no  use  in 
speaking  ill  of  the  dead ;  but  my  sister  would  never  have 
written  to  me  without  due  reason  to  ask  me  to  save  her 
children.  However  it  may  be,  whether  I  did  right  oi 
wrong,  it  cannot  be  altered,  now.     If  you  find  anv  reason, 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  293 

Basil,  in  what  I  have  told  you  for  bringing  your  engage- 
ment to  an  end,  you  will  be  justified  in  doing  so." 

The  general  was  struck  by  the  pain  and  the  pallor  of 
the  face  turned  to  him. 

"  I  do  not  complain,"  said  Sir  Basil,  "  though  I  wish 
that  I  had  known  the  truth  from  the  first.  I  understand 
your  motives  and  respect  them.  I,  in  your  place,  should 
probably  have  done  the  same  thing  ;  but  I  think  better  of 
Martin  Ray  than  you  do ;  and  the  fact  that  he  was  the 
father  of  the  girl  I  loved  would  never  have  made  the 
slightest  difference  to  me.  I  hope  you  will  not  be  annoyed 
when  I  say  that  Martin  Ray's  daughters  would  have  been 
the  same  to  me  as  daughters  of  your  own." 

"  I  am  delighted  to  hear  it,"  returned  Sir  Arthur. 
"  Affairs  have  changed  considerably  of  late  years.  Martin 
has  been  like  a  lion  with  his  teeth  drawn  ;  but,  \  hen  my 
poor  sister  ran  away  with  him,  he  was  a  power  in  the  land." 

Sir  Basil  was  thinking  deeply.  He  decided  that  it 
would  be  much  better  for  him  not  to  mention  that  he  had 
ever  seen  or  known  Martin  Ray — much  better  that  the 
whole  sad  story  should  be  buried  and  done  with  forever. 
Yet,  as  he  framed  these  thoughts,  he  was  dazed  and  blind 
with  his  great  misery.  What  manner  of  life  lay  before  him 
— loving  one  sister,  marrying  the  other,  and  the  one  he 
loved  always  near  him  ? 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 


Leah  had  been  terribly  shocked  at  finding  Hettie  lying 
unconscious  on  the  ground.  While  she  had  been  talking  to 
Sir  Arthur  in  the  library,  one  of  the  men-servants,  who  had 
been  told  to  watch  for  Sir  Basil's  arrival,  had  come  to  say 
that  he  had  arrived,  and  the  general  had  at  once  sent  tor 
him. 


294  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

"  I  will  leave  you,  uncle,"  she  said.  "  You  will  be  more 
at  ease  if  I  am  not  here." 

She  went  up  to  him  before  she  quitted  the  room,  and 
put  one  arm  round  his  neck,  half  hiding  her  face  on  his 
shoulder. 

**  Uncle,"  she  whispered,  "  you  do  not  really  think  that 
what  you  have  to  say  will  make  any  difference  as  regards 
Basil,  do  you  ?  " 

With  one  hand  she  clutched  the  lace  on  her  bosom,  and 
he  saw  that  her  very  soul  was  on  her  lips.  How  well  she 
loved  Sir  Basil,  this  beautiful  niece  of  his  ! 

"  I  am  quite  sure  not,"  he  replied.  "  You  may  rest 
happy,  content,  and  assured.  I  know  him  so  well.  I  think 
myself  that  he  rather  believes  a  rabid  politician  to  be  a 
great  patriot.  You  need  not  have  the  shadow  of  a  fear, 
jLeah." 

*'  I  shall  know,'*  said  the  girl,  **  by  my  first  glance  at  his 
face  whether  the  story  has  vexed  him  or  not.  If  I  thought 
that  it  would,  or  that  his  love  for  me  would  grow  less,  I 
should  die  now  and  here." 

*'  Have  no  fear,  Leah ;  trust  to  me." 

She  quitted  the  room,  and  went  back  to  the  terrace 
where  she  had  left  Hettie.  No  tall  figure  stood  by  the 
balustrade  ;  but  she  saw  an  inanimate  form  stretched  on 
the  ground.  Full  of  alarm  she  hastened  to  the  spot.  It 
was  Hettie,  white,  cold,  senseless,  her  golden  hair  lying 
like  a  veil,over  her  shoulders — Hettie,  whom  she  had  ^eft 
so  short  a  time  before  well  and  smiling !  What  was  wrong  ? 
She  raised  the  golden  head  and  looked  into  the  white  face. 
Was  it  death  ?  Was  it  sudden  illness  t  In  a  paroxysm  of 
terror  she  kissed  the  sweet  face.  "  Some  one  has  broken 
her  heart,"  thought  Leah.  She  remembered  the  pathetic 
little  love-story  her  sister  had  told  her.  It  was  that  had 
caused  her  to  faint.    Finding  it  impossible  to  restore  her 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  29$ 

to  consciousness  Leah  summoned  aid,  and  Hettie  was  car* 
ried  to  her  room. 

There  was  a  look  of  intense  pain  in  the  blue  eyes  when 
they  unclosed  at  last,  and  when  they  rested  on  Leah  a  cry 
escaped  her.  She  opened  her  arms  and  folded  her  in 
them.  "  Leah  !  Leah  !  "  she  cried ;  and  then  she  checked 
herself.  She  must  not  betray  her  secret.  Leah  must  not 
know  that  her  lover  had  swerved,  even  though  uncon- 
sciously. She  must  not  stand  like  a  shadow  between  Leah 
and  the  full  sunshine  and  gladness  of  her  love. 

Leah  was  very  loving  to  her. 

"  Close  your  eyes  and  sleep ;  you  will  be  better  then," 
she  said.  "  And  I  want  you  to  come  down  to  dinner ;  I 
have  a  surprise  for  you." 

She  little  dreamed  that  it  was  the  "  surprise  "  which  had 
almost  killed  her  sister. 

Leah  stole  away  gently  then.  Her  lover  would  be  wait- 
ing for  her — the  lover  who  now  knew  her  story,  and  from 
whose  face  she  would  learn  at  the  first  glance  whether  he 
cared  less  for  her.  She  went  to  the  library,  but  it  was 
empty,  and  a  deadly  chill  made  her  tremble.  Had  he  re- 
sented the  disclosure  and  gone  away  ?  She  went  to  the 
drawing-room.  He  was  not  there  ;  but  from  the  window 
she  saw  him  walking  slowly  up  and  down  the  terrace,  his 
face  pale  and  agitated.  Better  to  know  her  fate  at  once. 
She  hastened  out  to  him  and  touched  his  arm  gently  with 
her  hand. 

"  Basil,"  she  said — and  there  was  a  world  of  piteous  en- 
treaty in  her  voice — "  let  me  see  your  face." 

He  turned  to  her,  and  her  heart  gave  one  great  bound 
of  relief,  which  was  quickly  followed  by  a  smart  of  pain. 
There  was  no  trace  of  anger  or  annoyance  on  the  face  she 
loved  so  well,  but  there  was  unutterable  pain. 

"  Basil,"  she  said,  "  my  uncle  has  told  you  all.  Has  it 
vexed  or  grieved  you  ?  " 


2^6  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

He  gazed  at  her  with  a  vacant  wonder  in  his  eyes,  and 
then  came  a  gleam  of  recollection. 

"  It  can  never  be,"  she  thought,  "  that  he  has  forgotten 
so  momentous  a  conversation," 

"  Grieved  me  ?  No,  Leah,  not  in  the  least."  The 
pathos  of  her  face  troubled  him.  "  It  has  neither  grieved 
nor  vexed  me  in  the  least.  I  assure  you  honestly  that  I 
shall  not  be  ashamed  of  the  whole  world's  knowing  that  I 
married  the  daughter  of  Martin  Ray.  After  all,  though 
some  of  his  ideas  were  strangely  mistaken,  he  was  a  patriot 
at  heart,  was  he  not,  Leah  ?  " 

"  Do  not  ask  me,"  she  cried,  with  a  shudder.  Even  to 
her  lover  she  could  not  speak  of  her  father.  "  My  uncle 
has  told  you  the  whole  story,  and  you  say  that  it  has  not 
vexed  or  grieved  you,  that  you  do  not  love  me  one  whit  the 
less  for  it.  Now,  grant  me  one  favor,  Basil ;  promise  me 
that  you  will  never  speak  of  my  past  life  to  me.  It  was 
horrible.  I  had  not,  as  I  grew  older,  one  thought  or  idea 
in  common  with  my  poor  father.  I  wake  now  sometimes, 
heart-sick  with  horrible  dreams,  fancying  myself  once  more 
listening  with  a  rebellious  heart  to  doctrines  and  teachings 
I  hated.  I  say  no  word  against  my  poor  father ;  but  I  can 
never  bear  to  think  of  the  past,  dream  of  it,  recall  it.  You 
know  that  I  am  Martin  Ray's  daughter ;  you  love  me  none 
the  less  for  that ;  I  am  content.  You  are  very  good  to  me, 
Basil,"  she  said  ;  "  I  will  try  to  repay  you.  My  uncle  felt 
sure  of  your  good  faith ;  he  understands  you  well.  He 
told  you  all  about  my  dear  sister."  Her  face  was  trans- 
figured in  its  tenderness  as  she  spoke  of  Hettie.  "  You 
will  love  her,  Basil,  I  know  ;  she  is  so  fair,  so  sweet  and 
good.  I  think  her  most  beautiful,  too.  But  you  love  dark- 
haired  women  best,  do  you  not  ? " 

"  I  love  one  dark-haired  woman,"  said  Sir  Basil.  "  I 
shall  not  plead  guilty  to  more  than  that." 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  297 

She  laughed  the  happy,  quiet  laugh  he  was  not  often  to 
hear  again,  and  looked  at  him  with  brightening  eyes. 

"  How  happy  we  shall  be  together  !  "  she  said.  "  I 
could  not  have  believed  that  so  much  happiness  existed  on 
earth.  Ah  1  Basil,  how  much  I  missed  my  sister  I  could 
never  tell  you  !  In  spite  of  all  the  luxury  and  magnificence 
that  surrounded  me,  I  was  desolate  in  heart  until  you  came. 
I  have  known  no  desolation  since." 

He  would  have  given  worlds  to  return  her  kind,  loving 
words,  but  he  could  not.  His  lips  trembled,  his  voice 
faltered,  as  he  tried  to  frame  some  question  about  Hettie. 

**  I  was  sorry  to  hear,"  he  said,  "  that  your  sister  is  ill. 
Is  it  true  ? " 

"She  fainted.  I  was  talking  to  her  on  the  terrace 
when  my  uncle  came  for  me  ;  he  wanted  to  speak  to  me. 
I  left  her  well  enough.  When  I  went  back,  she  was  lying 
with  her  face  to  the  ground." 

He  strangled  the  bitter  cry  that  rose  to  his  lips. 

"  She  has  had  a  great  trouble  in  her  life,"  said  uncon. 
scions  Leah,  "  and  I  am  afraid  it  will  be  some  time  before 
she  will  get  over  it." 

The  words  smote  him  like  a  blow.  It  was  impossible 
that  she  could  have  told  Leah.     Yet  what  did  this  mean  ? 

"  Trouble  ? "  he  said.  "  I  am  sorry  to  hear  it.  What 
trouble  is  it  ? " 

"  I  cannot  tell  you,"  she  replied,  gravely.  **  I  do  not 
know  much  about  it ;  but  it  is  a  sorrow  that  has  spoiled 
her  life,  and  we  must  be  doubly  kind  and  gentle  to  her  be- 
cause of  it:  Out  of  the  greatness  of  our  own  happiness  we 
must  be  most  loving  to  her." 

"  Heaven  be  merciful  to  me  ! "  he  cried  to  himself.  "  I 
am  sorely  tried  !  " 

"  I  know  you  will  be  like  a  kind  elder  brother  to  Het- 
tie ;  will  you  not,  Basil  ?  And  in  time  I  hope  she  will  for, 
get  this  trouble  and  love  some  one  very  much — some  one 


2CjS  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

who  will  marry  her,  she  is  so  sweet  and  beautiful.  I  look 
forward  to  such  a  happy  future,  Basil/* 

"  And  she  shall  have  one,"  he  vowed  to  himself.  "  I 
would  rather  die  than  see  her  made  wretched  !  '* 

He  could  not  by  word  or  look  destroy  the  happiness 
that  shone  in  Leah's  face ;  yet  the  other  face,  more  loving, 
if  less  fair,  was  a  thousand  times  dearer  to  him. 

"  Hettie  will  be  down  to  dinner,"  continued  the  uncon- 
scious girl,  "  and  then  I  shall  introduce  the  two  people  I 
love  best  to  each  other.  You  will  be  all  that  is  most  kind 
and  loving  to  her,  Basil,  will  you  not,  for  my  sake  ?  " 

"  I  will  do  everything  you  wish,"  he  replied. 

He  knew  how  well  she  loved  him,  and  he  knew  also 
that,  if  ever  she  guessed  at  the  truth,  her  life  would  end 
with  her  happiness.  She  was  looking  up  at  him  with  glad 
eyes  in  which  tears  were  shining. 

"  I  will  be  so  good,"  she  said.  "  Those  whom  Heaven 
blesses  should  always  be  good — and  Heaven  has  blessed 
me.  Sometimes  I  think  I  might  have  been  selfish  had  1 
been  less  happy." 

He  could  not  help  thinking  how,  without  knowing 
that  it  was  her  story  he  had  heard,  he  had  judged  her 
selfish. 

Strangely  enough,  her  thoughts  went  in  the  same 
direction. 

"  Basil,"  she  said,  gently,  "  there  is  one  more  question 
I  should  like  to  ask  you — only  one.  When  you  heard  my 
story — when  you  were  told  of  my  choice — did  you  think  me 
selfish  ?  It  was  as  though  I  had  to  choose  between  pov- 
erty and  wealth,  between  my  love  and  duty  to  my  father 
and  the  luxury  of  a  fashionable  life.  It  was  not  so.  Had 
my  uncle  been  poor  and  my  father  rich,  I  should  have  done 
the  same.  It  was  the  life  sketched  out  for  me  that  frigh- 
tened me.     Did  you  think  me  selfish  ?    Tell  me." 

He  was  silent  for  some  minutes.    He  could  not  say 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  299 

•^-No,"  for  had  he  not  already  condemned  her  ?  He  could 
not  say  "  Yes,"  because  he  could  not  wound  her. 

"  I  think,"  he  replied,  "  that  the  circumstances  were 
unusual,  and  that  no  person  but  yourself  can  comprehend 
them." 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said  gently.  "  I  wish  it  were  in  my 
power  to  prove  to  you  now  that  I  am  not  selfish.  I  wish 
there  were  some  grand  sacrifice  I  could  make  for  you  sake; 
you  would  see  that  I  should  embrace  it  as  some  would  a 
gain  or  a  pleasure.  You  would  say  to  yourself  then  that  I 
was  not  to  be  judged  by  this  one  action  of  my  life." 

"  I  do  not  think  so  now,  Leah,"  he  remarked. 

•*  But  you  would  know  it  then,  Basil" — and  the  light  of 
heroism  was  on  her  face  as  she  spoke.  "  I  wish  I  could 
prove  it.  If  any  one  attempted  your  life,  I  would  cast  my- 
self before  you'  and  receive  the  death  blow  instead." 

"No  one  is  likely  to  put  you  to  the  test,  dear,"  he  said 
with  a  faint  laugh. 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 


"  Ten  minutes  more,  and  it  will  be  over,"  said  Sir  Basil 
o  himself — he  was  in  the  drawing-room  alone,  waiting  for 
Sir  Arthur  and  the  ladies. 

The  room  was  brilliantly  lighted,  and  he  saw  there  for 
the  first  time  a  magnificent  picture  that  Sir  Arthur  had 
purchased  that  year  at  the  Royal  Academy.  It  was  called 
**  CEnone."     It  was  terribly,  tragically  beautiful. 

"  There  lies  a  vale  in  Ida.  lovelier 
Than  all  the  valleys  of  Ionian  hills.'* 

Hither  came  the  beautiful-browed  CEnone,  she  whom  Paris 


300  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

had  worshipped  so  wildly,  then  deserted  for  golden-haired 
Aphrodite — CEnone,  whose  despairing  cry  will  ring  throug^h 
all  ages — 

"  Oh  mother  Ida,  many-fonntained  Ida. 
Dear  mother  Ida,  hearken  ere  I  die ! ... . 
I  am  the  daughter  of  a  river-god. 
Hear  me,  for  I  will  speak,  and  build  up  aUT 
My  sorrow  with  my  song." 

The  beautiful  face,  with  its  restless  passion  of  misery, 
was  turned  to  the  fair  valley  where  the  cicala  slept ;  "  the 
purple  flowers  droop,  the  golden  bee  is  lily-cradled."  On 
her  face  was  all  the  pathos  of  her  words — 

"  My  eyes  are  full  of  tears,  my  heart  of  love. 
My  heart  b  breaking,  and  my  eyes  are  dim. 
And  I  am  all  a  weary  of  my  life." 

The  despair  shown  in  her  face,  in  the  clasp  of  her  folded 
hands,  in  the  droop  of  the  beautiful  head,  was  grand  in  its 
tragedy.  CEnone  was  leaning  against  a  rock ;  the  wind 
seemed  to  stir  the  white  folds  of  her  robe  and  the  dark 
unbound  masses  of  her  hair.  No  one  who  saw  the  eyes  in 
the  picture  could  ever  forget  them — they  were  so  dark  and 
lustrous,  so  full  of  burning  passion  and  despair. 

Sir  Basil  was  engrossed  in  it.  He  did  not  hear  Sir 
Arthur  enter  the  room,  for  he  was  in  the  land  which  human 
sounds  never  reach.  Sir  Arthur  laid  his  hand  upon  the 
young  baronet's  shoulder. 

"  You  are  absorbed  in  my  new  purchase,"  he  said. 
"  Was  there  ever  anything  finer  than  the  tragic  sorrow  and 
desolation  of  that  face  ?  That  long  flowing  black  hair  so 
beautifully  painted  that  one  can  almost  see  the  wind  stir- 
ring it.     I  value  that  picture  most  highly." 

"  I  have  never  seen  such  sorrow  in  any  human  face,** 
said  Sir  Bacil. 

Before  he  had  finished  the  words  the  door  opened,  and 


^BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  301 

he  knew  that  he  was  in  the  presence  of  both  sisters. 
Never  did  man  utter  a  more  vehement,  passionate  prayer 
for  strength  and  calmness  than  he.  One  terrible  moment 
passed.  He  heard  the  rustle  of  soft  silken  robes  as  they 
crossed  the  room.  Then,  with  a  desperate  effort,  he  raised 
his  head,  and  looked  at  them — ^first  at  her  whom  he  had 
loved  and  lost,  her  sweet  face  white  as  the  leaf  of  a  lily, 
her  golden  hair  shining  like  an  aureole  round  her  head — 
the  woman  to  whom  his  heart  flew,  at  whose  feet  he  would 
have  laid  his  life,  the  only  woman  who  had  ever  stirred  his 
soul  with  the  fire  and  fever  and  ecstasy  of  passionate  love. 
Tall  slender  and  graceful,  her  dark  rich  dress  trailing,  her 
rich  laces  "  falling  in  a  fairy  shower,"  she  seemed  to  float 
toward  him.  Her  eyes  did  not  meet  his  ;  and  no  gleam 
of  recognition  came  into  the  sweet  colorless  face.  He 
looked  from  her  to  the  radiant  girl  by  her  side,  "  in  whose 
dark  eyes  was  the  light  of  the  setting  sun,"  her  face  bright 
with  beauty  and  love,  her  color  vivid  and  exquisite  as  that 
of  a  wild  rose,  her  every  movement  replete  with  grace  and 
harmony.  They  differed  as  does  a  tall  white  lily  from  a 
queenly  red  rose ;  yet  there  was  something  of  a  resem- 
blance— they  were  alike  in  grace  and  subtle  elegance  of 
figure,  and  in  the  queenly  carriage  of  the  head. 

Leah  led  Hettie  by  the  hand.  •  She  brought  her  to 
"where  CEnone,  in  her  eternal  sorrow,  bewailed  a  faithless 
lover,  where  the  exquisite  tragic  face  looked  out  in  its  un- 
changing despair.  Leah  had  never  appeared  nor  felt  so 
hippy  as  when  she  laid  Hettie's  white  hand  in  that  of  her 
lover.  She  did  not  notice  that  one  was  cold  as  death  and 
the  other  burned  like  fire.  She  did  notice  that,  when  she, 
with  happy  eyes  and  smiling  lips,  went  through  the  cere- 
mony of  introduction,  those  two  shrank  from  each  other 
as  though  the  cold  and  darkness  of  a  grave  lay  between 
them. 

"  Hettie  is  so  shy,"  said  the  elder  sister,  looking  with 


302  ^  BROKEN  WEDDmC^RTNG, 

a  smile  at  her  lover.  "  She  has  been  ill  to-day ;  that 
makes  her  quiet.  Hettie,  look  at  the  picture.  I  per- 
suaded Sir  Arthur  to  buy  it.  I  think  the  last  lines  in 
Tennyson's  poem  of  *  GEnone  '  are  the  finest  ever  written, 
and  they  are  expressed  iu  her  face — that  beautiful  young 
face  which  is  never  to  smile  again." 

"  I  do  not  remember  them.  What  are  they  ?  '*  said 
Hettie,  more  to  gain  time  than  anything  else. 

*"  A  sound 
Rings  ever  in  her  ears  of  armed  men. 
What  this  may  be  I  know  not,  but  I  know 
That,  wheresoer  I  am  by  night  and  day. 
All  earth  and  air  seems  only  burning  fire.' " 

Hettie  turned  away  with  a  shudder  which  she  could  not 
control. 

"  I  can  understand  those  words,"  Leah  added,  musingly ; 
**  a  passionate  misery  must  be  a  burning  pain." 

The  dinner-bell  rang,  and  the  general  offered  his  arm 
to  Leah. 

"  We  will  leave  these  two  to  make  friends,"  he  said. 
And  Basil  in  silence  went  to  Hettie. 

"  We  shall  never  be  able  to  bear  it,"  he  thought.  "  I 
must  retire,  or  she." 

Hettie  laid  her  hand  timidly  upon  his  arm.  He  seized 
it  with  a  vehement,  passionate  grasp — his  very  heart  was 
on  fire — and  then  as  suddenly  let  it  go. 

How  many  hours  of  this  torture  would  there  be  to  pass  ? 
he  thought.  The  blood  ran  like  fire  through  his  veins  j 
every  nerve  and  pulse  thrilled  with  the  sense  of  her  pres» 
ence ;  yet  he  must  sit  there  as  the  happy  lover  of  Leah, 
smile  and  talk  and  laugh  unconcernedly. 

"What,  in  Heaven's  name,  shall  I  do  with  my  life," he 
cried  to  himself,  "  if  I  find  one  day  so  hard  to  bear  t  " 

Hetti-^  was  excused  from  all  effort,  and  her  pale  face 
was  accounted  for  by  the  fact  that  she  had  been  ill. 


A  BROKEN'  WEDDING-RING.  303 

The  dinner  passed,  and  Leah  was  dimly  conscious  of 
something  being  wrong,  something  she  did  not  understand. 
She  was  Just  a  Utile  disappointed  that  Sir  Basil  was  not 
warmer  in  his  manner  to  Hettie.  He  spoke  to  her  but 
seldom,  and  it  was  always  with  averted  eyes.  She  won* 
dered  if  it  were  his  great  love  for  her  which  made  him  so 
indifferent  to  the  charms  of  her  sister. 

The  ordeal  was  over  at  last.  When  the  two  girls  had 
left  the  dining-room,  Sir  Arthur  turned  with  a  laughing 
face  to  his  companion. 

"  It  is  not  of  much  use  for  you  to  remain  here,"  he 
said.  ".Your  heart  has  gone  into  the  drawing-room,  and 
you  may  as  well  follow  it." 

"  That  is  true,"  assented  Sir  Basil. 

**  I  told  you,"  continued  the  general,  "  what  a  difference 
it  makes  to  have  two  nieces  instead  of  one,  though  Hettie 
looks  ill.  I  suspect  her  life  has  been  harder  than  we 
know." 

"  If  ever  a  man  felt  inclined  to  cast  himself  headlong 
into  a  fathomless  abyss,  I  am  that  man,"  said  Sir  Basil  to 
himself,  as  he  walked  along  the  hall  to  the  drawing-room. 
**  There  never  was  so  cruel  a  fate.  Why  did  not  some 
good  spirit  warn  me  not  to  go  near  Souihwood  ?  I  feel 
like  a  murderer  when  I  think  of  those  two  girls." 

He  found  them  standing  side  by  side  before  the  new 
picture.  Hettie  did  not  look  at  him  ;  but  Leah,  with  a 
glance,  invited  him  to  join  them. 

"  I  am  fascinated  with  CEnone,"  she  said.  "  How  well 
she  loved  Paris  !  Do  you  think  he  made  the  wisest  choice 
in  giving  the  golden  apple  to  Aphrodite  ? " 

"  Not  perhaps  the  wisest,"  he  replied.  "  One  goddess 
offered  unlimited  power,  god-like  supremacy,  rest  in  a  happy 
place,  and  absolute  sovereignty.  The  second  offered  hiiij 
calmest  wisdom,  soundest  judgment, 


SQ4 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING^ 

'  Acting  the  law  we  live  by  without  fear; 
And,  because  right  is  right,  to  follow  right 
Were  wisdom  in  the  scom  of  consequencet* 


The  third,  Idalian  Aphrodite,  beautiful, 

"  *  Fresh  as  the  foam,  new  bathed  in  Paphian  wells. 

offered  him  love.     *  I  promise  thee,'  she  said,  *  the  fairest 
and  most  loving  wife  in  Greece.'     Love  conquered." 

"  How  could  that  be,"  said  Leah,  quickly,  "  when  Paris 
loved  (Enone  first." 

Over  Sir  Basil's  handsome  face  swept  a  great  scorching 
blush.  Ah  1  how  indeed  ?  How  can  a  man  understand  his 
own  heart,  or  the  great  mystery  of  love  } 

"  I  suppose,"  he  said,  "  that  the  gods  of  old,  like  men 
of  all  time,  have  been  inconstant  in  love.  So  all  poetry 
and  all  mythology  say." 

"  Oh,  Basil,  you  do  not  mean  it !  " — and  the  light  of 
Leah's  eyes  flashed  right  into  his.  "  Some  men  are  surely 
faithful  ? " 

Hettie  moved  away  from  the  picture ;  she  went  to  the 
other  end  of  the  room  and  took  up  a  book.  He  looked 
after  her  with  haggard,  wistful  eyes ;  every  step  of  hers 
seemed  to  draw  his  heart  with  it ;  he  did  not  know  that  life 
could  hold  such  torture. 

"  Basil,"  said  the  musical  voice  "you  do  not  mean  that  I 
I  thought  constancy  was  the  gift  of  the  gods." 

"  I  have  read  that  inconstancy  is  the  pleasure  of  the 
gods,"  he  answered,  laughing  somewhat  bitterly.  "  It  may 
be  the  scourge  of  men." 

There  was  a  minute's  silence,  and  then  a  warm,  white 
hand  stole  into  his,  a  dark  head  drooped  near  him,  and  a 
voice  that  was  sweet  as  the  cooing  of  a  dove,  said, — 

"  No  matter  who  is  false,  you  are  true,  Basil.  You  have 
truth  in  your  eyes  and  on  your  lips.  If  all  the  world  proved 
false,  you  would  be  the  one  true  man  in  it."  The  dark 
eyes  were  full  of  love,  the  beautiful  lips  seemed  to  woo 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  305 

him.  What  could  he  do  ?  "  You  will  always  be  true  to 
me,  will  you  not,  Basil  ?  You  will  always  love  me,  my  love, 
better  than  all  the  world  beside  ?  " 

On  the  other  side  of  the  room  was  the  girl  he  loved,  her 
fair  face  averted;  near  him  was  the  despairing  face  of 
CEnone,  nearer  still  the  brilliant  face  of  the  girl  who  loved 
him  with  her  whole  heart.  It  was  like  a  scene  from  a 
tragedy  to  him.  He  half  wondered  if  the  lights  w.ould  go 
out  and  a  curtain  fall.  If  only  the  picture  had  been  away, 
and  the  desolation  of  unhappy  love  out  of  his  sight,  he 
would  have  felt  less  distressed. 

".Better  than  all  the  world  !  "  continued  Leah.  "  How 
weak  and  worthless  a  half  love  is !  I  would  sooner  have 
hate  When  OEnone's  love  was  over,  her  life  was  ended, 
No  half  love  is  worth  having — is  it,  Basil  ? " 

*'  Heaven  knows  that  it  is  not,"  he  said,  with  a  great 
sigh.  He  saw  the  golden  head  move  wdth  a  gesture  of 
weariness.  "  How  hard  it  must  be  for  her  to  bear  this !  '* 
he  thought ;  and  his  mind  went  back  to  that  one  hour  by  the 
sea,  when  mad  hope,  love  and  despair  had  mingled.  He 
whispered  some  words  that  comforted  Leah — she  was  so 
easily  made  happy  by  him — and  then  he  said  to  her :  "  Let 
us  do  something  to  amuse  your  sister ;  she  looks  quite  lonely 
there." 

And  Leah,  full  of  regret  for  her  momentary  forgetful 
ness,  hastened  to  her.  The  face  that  Hettie  raised  to  hfti 
sister  was  .ghastly  in  its  pallor. 

"You  are  ill,  Hettie!"  said  Leah.  "Oh,  my  deai, 
what  is  wrong  >  I  will  get  a  glass  of  water  for  you  " — an%i 
she  hastened  away. 

"  I  cannot  bear  it,  Basil,"  said  Hettie,  looking  at  him 
with  miserable  eyes.     "  I  have  not  strength." 

"  Oh,  my  darling,  I  M'ould  give  my  life  to  undo  it,  to 
save  you  from  the  consequences  of  my  fault,  ray  wretchei^ 
miserable  fault  1 " 


2o6  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-KING. 

"  What  shall  we  do  ? "  asked  the  girl  despairingly^ 
"  What  will  become  of  us  ?  Leah  loves  you  so.  Help  me 
to  be  true  to  her  and  true  to  myself,  Basil.  How  can  I 
turn  traitress  to  the  sweetest  of  sisters,  the  kindest  and  the 
dearest  ?     I  must  go  away  ;  I  cannot  stay  here  ! " 

Was  it  fancy  ?  When  Leah  returned  with  the  water  in 
her  hand,  it  seemed  to  her  that  Sir  Basil  suddenly  drew 
back  from  Hettie.  Was  it  fancy  ?  And,  as  she  opened 
the  door,  she  thought  she  heard  the  words,  uttered  in  a 
soft,  murmuring  sigh,  "  I  cannot  bear  it !  "  She  must  have 
been  mistaken.  She  smiled  as  she  thought  what  an  absurd 
fancy  it  was. 


CHAPTER  XLVHL 


Sir  Basil's  thoughts  were  gloomy  ones  as  he  walked 
home  to  Glen.  What  was  he  to  do  t  This  state  of  things 
could  not  last.  Even  if  he  could  control  himself,  Leah 
was  so  quick  that  she  would  soon  perceive  what  it  was  that 

was   amiss  with  Hettie   and  then Well  he  thought  it 

would  be  far  easier  to  meet  death  in  any  shape  than  to 
meet  Leah  after  she  knew  his  secret.  He  could  not  wit* 
ness  Hettie's  suffering,  nor  could  he  bear  to  think  of 
Leah's  despair.  He  could  not  understand  the  difficulties 
by  which  he  was  encompassed  ;  he  was  like  one  groping 
in  the  dark.  He  determined  that  he  would  rest  his  brain 
and  his  thoughts,  and  then  decide. 

It  was  easier  to  plan  than  to  do.  No  rest,  no  sleep 
came  to  him  that  night.  The  sisters  seemed  to  stand  on 
either  side  of  his  pillow — Hettie  whom  he  worshiped,  Leah 
who  loved  him.  He  told  himself  that,  if  this  lasted  much 
longer,  he  should  go  mad. 

The  morning  brought  him  sad  intelligence — a  not© 


A  BROKEN^  WEDDmC'2iy9. 


307 


from  Leah  saying  that  Hettie  was  ill,  and  that  the  doctofg 
for  whom  they  had  sent  in  all  haste  pronounced  it  a  danger- 
ous case  of  brain  fever. 

"  Come  over  as  soon  as  you  can  and  comfort  me,  Basil. 
I  cannot  endure  to  think  that  I  have  found  my  sister  only 
to  lose  her." 

"  If  she  dies,  I  have  murdered  her,"  he  said  to  himself 
bitterly. 

He  went  over  at  once  and  found  the  whole  household  in 
despair.  The  general  met  him  with  outstretched  hand  and 
grave  face. 

"  Brain-fever  !  "  he  said,  **  Basil,  what  can  have  caused 
brain-fever  !  I  cannot  understand  it.  And  she  is  in  dan- 
ger— really  in  danger  ?  Poor  pretty  Hetty  I  What  is  to 
be  done  ? " 

There  was  no  need  for  Sir  Basil  to  express  his  sympa- 
thy. If  anything  could  have  comforted  Sir  Arthur  in  this 
hour  of  his  distress,  it  would  have  been  the  hearty,  honest, 
evident  grief  of  his  young  companion. 

"  I  have  seen  and  known  very  little  of  illness,"  contin- 
ued the  general.  "  I  can  tell  a  case  of  jungle-fever,  and  I 
understand  ague  ;  but  brain-fever — it  is  positively  awful, 
Basil !  I  thought  brain-fever  was  the  result  of  trouble, 
worry,  sorrow,  or  some  great  mental  anxiety." 

"  So  I  have  always  understood,"  said  Sir  Basil ;  *'  but 
then  you  tell  me  she  has  had  a  troubled  life.'* 

"  So  she  has,  poor  child ;  I  am  sure  of  that.  This  is 
one  of  the  evils  of  life  that  we  must  bear  with  patience. 
We  have  done  all  that  is  possible.  I  have  telegraphed  to 
London  for  two  experienced  nurses — I  cannot  have  Leah 
always  in  the  sick  room — and  now  we  must  await  the 
result." 

"  Does  the  docter  think  there  is  danger  ?  "  asked  Sii 
Basil,  with  white  lips. 

**  Yes  the  fever  runs  high,  and  she  is  very  weak,    t 


3o8  A  BROKEN'  WEDDmC-RTNC. 

hope  for  Leah's  sake,  you  will  spend  as  much  time  here  as 
possible.  The  days  will  be  dreadfully  depressing  for  her, 
poor  child." 

"  You  may  rely  upon  me,"  said  Sir  Basil.  "  Indeed, 
the  difficulty  would  be  for  me  to  keep  away.  My  world  is 
here." 

It  was  indeed  a  melancholy  time.  For  many  days 
the  shadow  of  death  lay  over  the  household.  There  were 
hushed  voices,  silent  footsteps,  and  fervent  prayers  for  the 
beautiful  young  girl  who  lay  quite  unconscious  of  all  that 
passed.  Everything  that  skill  and  love  could  suggest  was 
but  done,for  many  days  the  issue  was  doubtful.  It  was  Leah's 
first  experience  of  illness  or  physical  suffering  and  it  impres- 
sed her  greatly.  The  house  was  put  under  a  discipline.  No 
visitors  came ;  there  was  no  sound  heard.  Piano,  harp, 
singing — all  were  tabooed.  Leah  would  have  shut  out  if 
she  could  the  soughing  of  the  wind  and  the  creaking  of  the 
great  bare  boughs.  It  was  the  strange  death  like. silence 
that  made  the  place  seem  so  unearthly.  Not  even  the  bark- 
i'^g  of  a  dog  was  allowed  near  the  mansion.  The  poor 
tortured  brain  could  not  endure  the  least  sound.  It  was  a 
piteous  sight  to  see  the  fair  head  tossing  restlessly  to  and 
fro  on  the  white  pillow  ;  it  was  never  still — from  one  side  to 
the  other  it  turned  with  unwearied  motion  ;  and  the  mutter- 
ing— which  is  perhaps  the  most  awful  accompaniment  of 
brain-fever — never  ceased.  None  of  the  sufferer's  words 
were  intelligible;  her  utterance  was  only  an  inarticulate  mur- 
mur vague  and  terrible.  Once  or  twice,  when  Leah  was 
with  her,  she  thought  she  overheard  the  word  "Glen,"  but 
she  concluded  it  must  have  been  fancy.  It  brought  no 
meaning  to  her,  although  it  was  the  name  of  her  lover's 
home. 

During  those  long  weeks  of  weary  suffering  no  man 
could  have  been  more  miserable  than  Sir  Basil.  He  wan- 
dered round  the  house  like  a  shadow.     He  could  not  bear 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RrNG.  309 

to  leave  it,  nor  could  he  bear  to  be  left  alone.  He  seemed 
to  spend  the  greater  part  of  the  day  in  asking  but  one  ques- 
tion from  different  people  :  "  How  is  she  now  ? "  He  grew 
thin,  pale  and  haggard,  years  seemed  to  have  fallen  on 
him. 

Leah  was  troubled  about  him,  and  warned  him  to  be 
careful,  for  he  looked  as  though  he  were-  about  to  have  a 
severe  illness  himself. 

One  day,  while  the  general  and  Sir  Basil  were  walking 
along  the  high-road  that  led  to  Arley,  they  met  a  huge 
lumbering  wagon  on  its  way  to  the  hall.  When  they  drew 
near  to  it,  they  found  that  it  was  from  the  railway.  The 
driver  stopped  when  he  saw  Sir  Arthur,  and  asked  if  he 
was  to  drive  through  the  park. 

"What  have  you  there  ?  "  asked  the  general,  in  wonder. 

"  Ten  packages,"  answered  the  burly  driver.  "  Would 
you  like  to  see  the  book,  Sir  Arthur  ?  " 

The  general  looked  at  it,  and  found  that  there  were  ten 
packages  from  Southwood.  Then  he  remembered  that, 
when  leaving  there,  several  things  in  the  cottage  were 
packed  up,  and  left  at  the  railway-station  to  be  forwarded 
to  Brentwood — Martin  Ray's  wruing-desk,  his  favorite 
books,  one  or  two  things  that  the  girls  prized,  Hettie's 
music,  and  what  few  mementoes  remained  of  the  dear  dead 
mother.  It  occurred  to  Sir  Arthur  that  any  knowledge  of 
the  arrival  of  these  things  would  be  hurtful  to  Hettie ;  so 
he  tore  a  leaf  from  his  pocket-book,  and  on  it  wrote  a  note 
to  Leah,  telling  her  that  the  packages  were  from  Southwood 
and  that  they  had  better  be  put  away  in  some  remote 
corner  of  the  house  until  Hettie  had  quite  recovered,  and 
the  sight  of  them  would  not  hurt  her.  He  gave  directions 
that  the  wagon  should  not  go  near  the  hall. 

"  No  one  can  tell,"  he  said,  "  what  harm  the  sound 
might  do  to  Hettie  \ "  and  Basil  was  struck  by  his  kindly 
consideration. 


jio  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RmG. 

Leah  read  the  note  and  hastened  to  give  the  necessary 
orders.  The  packages  were  stowed  away  in  one  of  the 
unused  rooms  of  the  western  wing.  One  of  them,  a  square 
packet,  attracted  Leah's  attention.  She  unfastened  the 
canvas  in  which  it  was  folded,  and  found  that  it  was  her 
father's  writing-case.  Heaven  only  knew  what  burning^ 
bitter  words  had  been  written  on  it !  How  well  she  remem- 
bered the  case  !  How  often  she  had  seen  her  father  seated 
at  it,  with  frowning  brows  and  flashing  eyes  !  It  lay  open 
before  him  on  the  day  that  she  had  left  him — the  day  he 
had  cursed  her.  She  thought  of  Hettie's  words,  that  the 
curse  must  have  fallen  on  her  by  mistake,  and  she  reflected 
that  it  was  indeed  true  that  everything  had  gone  wrong 
with  her  hapless  sister.  If  Leah  could  but  have  known 
what  the  desk  contained,  she  would  not  have  looked  at  it 
with  such  careless  eyes. 

She  forgot  all  about  the  packages.  Hettie,  though  weak 
as  a  little  child,  hardly  able  to  see  or  hear,  was  out  of  dan- 
ger, and  the  doctors  agreed  that  she  had  taken  the  critical 
turn  which  leads  to  health.  The  terrible  strain  of  anxiety 
was  ended,  the  great  mental  stress  over.  Every  one  in 
the  house  breathed  more  freely.  During  her  illness  Hettie 
had  endeared  herself  to  all.  Her  sweetness  and  patience, 
the  severity  of  her  sufferings,  her  thought  for  others,  hei 
loving  gratitude,  were  things  to  be  remembered  ;  and,  when 
it  seemed  certain  that  she  would  not  die  of  this  terrible 
fever,  the  rejoicing  was  great. 

Once  more  the  cheerful  sound  of  merry  voices  was  heard. 
Hettie,  half  amused,  half  alarmed  at  her  own  feebleness, 
slowly  traced  the  path  that  leads  from  sickness  to  health. 
It  would  be  some  weeks  yet,  the  doctor  said,  before  she 
could  be  taken  downstairs  or  allowed  to  see  any  one — 
even  the  general.  It  was  five  weeks  since  the  evening 
when  she  had  cried  out  to  Sir  Basil  that  she  could  not  bear 
her  pain,  and  the  overwrought  brain  had  suddenly  given 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  31s 

way ;  it  would  be  some  weeks  more  before  she  saw  him 
again.  When  she  was  strong,  when  her  brain  was  clear,  and 
«?he  could  think  without  a  hundred  fancies  weaving  them- 
•,elves  in  her  thoughts,  she  would  make  up  her  mind  with 
regard  to  her  future. 

Once  or  twice,  when  she  had  so  far  recovered  as  to  be 
able  to  take  notice  of  what  was  passing  around  her.  Sir 
Basil  had  sent  her,  by  Leah,  a  few  flowers.  She  took  them 
without  a  word,  and  laid  them  down  languidly.  She  did  not 
show  the  least  desire  to  take  care  of  them,  and  made  no 
remonstrance  when  they  were  removed. 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 


"  What  shall  I  do  to  rouse  her  1"  "  said  Leah  to  herself, 
one  morning,  after  her  usual  conversation  with  the  doctor. 
"  She  is  sweet-tempered,  loving,  and  grateful ;  but  she  seems 
to  have  lost  all  desire  to  live.'* 

Suddenly  Leah  bethought  herself  cf  the  packages 
from  Southwood.  Surely  among  them  she  would  fu:d 
something  that,  by  memory  or  association,  would  startle 
her  mind  into  activity. 

Leah  went  to  the  unused  room  in  the  western  wing 
where  the  packages  lay,  and  the  writing-case  was  the  first 
thing  that  caught  her  attention.  It  was  probable  there 
would  be  among  her  father's  papers  something  which  would 
remind  Hettie  of  her  old  home  and  rouse  her  into  a  more 
active  state  of  mind.  She  opened  the  case  and  found  it 
filled  with  documents.  Martin  Ray  had  evidently  arranged 
it  before  his  death.  There,  all  yellow  with  age,  the  thin 
edges  all  worn  with  folding,  were  her  mother's  love-letters, 
written  many  years  before  !     They  were  tied  with  blue 


312  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

ribbon,  and  with  them  were  fastened  flowers  that  had  soon 
died.  He  had  loved  her  fair  young  mother  well  to  have 
preserved  these  with  such  loving  care.  She  would  not 
open  them ;  they  were  sacred  to  her,  these  letters  written 
by  the  hand  so  long  dead.  She  kissed  them  with  reverence, 
wondering  as  she  did  so  whether,  if  she  died  young,  Basil 
would  keep  her  love-letters.  She  found  certificates  of  her 
parent's  marriage,  of  her  mother's  death  and  of  her  birth 
and  Hettie's.  She  found  a  life  insurance  policy  for  one 
hundred  pounds,  which  had  evidently  been  intended  for 
Hettie.  There  were  numerous  other  papers — invitations 
to  political  meetings,  reviews  of  her  father's  books,  articles 
written  in  his  favor,  and  articles  that  held  him  up  to  ridi- 
cule and  contempt.  She  found  some  letters  which  she 
placed  aside  fur  destruction — letters  the  contents  of  which 
she  well  knew  and  shuddered  to  remember.  There  were 
account  books  showing  how  Martin  Ray  had  spent  the 
people's  money  :  she  turned  from  them  with  loathing.  Ah, 
what  was  this  ?  A  letter  in  a  square  envelope,  on  which 
was  written,  "  For  my  daughter  Leah,  written  now  that  I 
know  I  am  dying,  to  be  sent  or  given  to  her  after  my 
death."  She  looked  at  it  again,  mistrusting  her  eyes 
while  she  read  the  words. 

A  letter  from  her  father,  written  when  he  knew  that  he 
was  dying  !  How  was  it  that  it  had  never  been  given  to 
her  ?  Plainly  no  one  had  known  anything  about  it.  He 
had  written  it,  meaning,  without  doubt,  to  give  it  to  Hettie^ 
had  put  it  in  his  desk,  and  had  either  forgotten  it  or  his 
sudden  relapse  into  danger  had  put  it  out  of  his  mind. 
She  recognized  the  bold,  free  hand-writing  that  had  been 
so  characteristic  of  Martin  Ray.  She  never  doubted  but 
that  it  would  be  a  loving  letter,  written  to  take  from  her 
the  horrible  curse  which  had  preyed  so  heavily  on  her 
mind.  She  put  it  into  the  pocket  of  her  dress  ;  she  would 
read  it  when  she  had  finished  her  search.      She  would  be 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  313 

all  the  happier  if  that  letter  were  a  kind  and  loving  one. 
It  had  been  a  sore  trouble  to  her  that  she  had  reached  her 
father's  side  too  late,  and  that  he  had  died  calling  for  her, 
and  she  was  not  there. 

A  few  minutes  later  she  had  gone  back  to  Hettie's 
room,  with  many  little  mementoes  of  home  that  she  thought 
would  interest  her.  Then  a  visitor  arrived,  one  of  the 
ladies  of  the  neighborhood,  to  make  special  inquiries  after 
Hettie.  Leah  went  to  the  drawing-room  to  receive  her» 
and  found  that  the  general  and  the  young  baronet  had 
driven  over  to  Glen.  She  was  slightly  disappointed.  She 
would  have  enjoyed  a  few  minutes  with  Sir  Basil ;  it  was 
her  one  source  of  pleasure  when  she  could  leave  Hettie. 
She  entertained  her  visitor,  Lady  Drake,  with  all  the  cnarm 
of  manner  natural  to  her.  Then,  when  she  left,  rrore 
charmed  than  ever  with  the  beautiful  chatelaine  of  Brent- 
tvood,  Leah  remembered  the  letter. 

It  was  rather  early  to  have  the  lamps  lighted,  though 
the  rooms  were  gloomy  with  a  miserable  yellow  light.  Tlie 
drawing-room  was  bright  and  gay  with  flowers.  A  fire 
burned  in  the  grate  ;  the  vivid  flames  rose  and  fell  with  a 
dazzling  light.  The  ruddy  glow  almost  overpowered  the 
pale  yellow  light ;  it  fell  with  a  weird  effect  on  the  beau- 
tiful picture  of  "  CEnone,"  and  Leah  was  irresistibly 
attracted  to  it.  She  drew  an  easy-chair  between  the  fire 
and  the  picture,  and  looked  at  it  with  wistful  eyes.  The 
firelight  fell  on  the  vale  of  Ida,  on  the  desolate  figure,  and 
the  beautiful  face  so  full  of  despair.  Then  she  bethought 
herself  that  she  would  read  herl  etter.  She  rose  and 
stirred  the  fire,  rousing  it  into  a  yet  deeper  glare  ;  then 
she  drew  her  chair  nearer  to  the  picture,  watching  the 
ruddy  glow  as  it  lighted  up  the  despairing  face  of  CEnone, 
As  she  looked  then,  with  rest  and  repose  in  her  dark  eyes, 
with  tranquillity  on  her  beautiful  face,  she  never  looked 
again. 


$14  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING^ 

She  opened  the  envelope  ;  it  was  a  long  letter,  and  she 
half  wondered  what  her  father  had  to  say  to  her.  She 
was  lost  to  everything  when  she  had  read  a  few  lines.  Her 
letter  ran  as  follows, — 

"  My  dear  Leah  :  I  had  sworn  an  oath  that  I  would 
never  look  at  you,  speak  to  you,  or  address  you  again.  I 
cursed  you — you,  the  child  of  my  heart,  whom  I  loved 
better  than  all  the  world.  You  disappointed  me  in  my 
dearest  hopes.  The  refusal  to  fulfil  the  mission  for  which 
I  had  always  intended  you,  has  been  the  bane  and  the 
blight  of  my  life.  In  my  rage  and  anger  I  cursed  you.  I 
give  you  the  opportunity  of  evading  that  curse  by  the  no- 
blest act  of  self-denial  any  woman  can  perform.  Years  ago, 
when  the  choice  was  given  you  between  a  wealthy  stranger 
and  your  poor  father,  you  gave  up  father,  sister,  home,  and 
clung  to  the  stranger.  It  was  a  selfish  and  mercenary 
proceeding.  I  will  give  you  a  chance  of  redeeming  it  by 
an  heroic  act  of  self-sacrifice.  You  left  your  young  sister 
in  a  desolate  home  ;  you  left  her  motherless,  friendless, 
almost  helpless ;  you  went  to  a  brilliant,  luxurious  life.  You 
can  atone  for  it  now  by  giving  up  for  her  sake  that  which 
you  value  most  in  the  wide  world. 

*'  I  have  a  story  to  tell  you,  Leah — one  that  no  one  in 
the  world  knows  but  myself,  one  that  gives  you  a  chance  to 
redeem  yourself,  to  return  sacrifice  for  sacrifice.  I  do  not 
demand  it,  I  do  no^  even  ask  it.  When  you  have  read  what 
I  have  to  write,  the  issue  must  lie  in  your  hands  entirely. 

"  In  the  summer-tim^  I  was  standing  before  the  cottage, 
looking  over  the  wall  at  the  sea  which  washes  the  foot  of 
the  green  hill.  There  came  upon  me,  quite  suddenly  and 
silently,  the  handsomest  young  man  I  had  ever  beheld  in 
my  life.  Handsome  is  not  the  word  ;  he  had  a  grand,  noble 
beauty,  the  like  of  which  I  had  never  seen.  He  came  to 
me  and  said  that  he  was  looking  for  the  house  of  Martin 
Ray.     He  was  a  frank,  princely  youn^  fellow,  and  ht 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  315 

spoke  as  though  he  rather  admired  Martin  Ray.  I  talked 
ro  him.  It  was  infinite  pleasure  to  converse  once  more 
with  one  who  believed  in  me.  I  spent  a  pleasant  hour  with 
him.  He  told  me  that  he  had  been  educated  abroad,  and 
had  but  just  returned  to  England,  whsre  he  was  anxiously- 
studying  politics,  and  that  he  wanted  to  understand  my 
political  views. 

"  '  If  you  desire  it,'  I  said  to  him,  *  I  will  expound  them 
to  you.  If  you  are  an  aristocrat,  do  not  say  so,  for  I  should 
hate  you  ;'  and  he  never  told  me  his  name. 

"  He  came  once  when  I  was  out,  and  I,  returning  home, 
found  him  talking  to  Hettie.  He  said  that  he  was  waiting 
for  me  ;  but,  if  ever  I  read  passionate  love  in  a  man's  face, 
it  was  in  his.  And  then  only  did  I  begin  to  care  about 
who  he  was,  for  Hettie  was  changed,  and  I  knew  that  her 
heart  had  gone  out  to  the  stranger.  I  made  inquiries,  silent- 
ly, cleverly,  and  I  soon  knew  all.  I  found  that  his  name 
was  Sir  Basil  Carlton,  and  that  he  was  staying  at  Dene 
Abbey  with  my  foe,  the  Duke  of  Rosedene.  I  found  that 
my  mortal  enemy,  Sir  Arthur  Hatton,  with  the  girl  who  had 
disowned  me,  was  with  him  ;  and  once,  in  all  your  magnifi- 
cence, I  saw  you,  Leah.  You  passed  me  on  the  high-road ; 
you  were  in  a  carriage  with  the  duke  and  duchess,  smiling, 
proud,  beautiful.  I  was  on  foot,  and  you  did  not  know 
that  you  had  whirled  past  your  father,  without  sign  of  rec- 
ognition, without  even  the  paling  of  your  face  or  the 
trembling  of  your  lips.  I  heard,  too,  that  Sir  Basil  was 
your  lover ;  it  was  whispered  to  me,  whether  truly  or  falsely 
I  could  not  tell,  that  you  cared  much  more  for  the  young 
baronet  than  he  did  for  you,  my  proud,  disdainful  child.  I 
decided  that  I  would  watch  events  and  see  for  myself  if 
that  were  true. 

"  One  day,  when  we  were  talking — I  was  growing  languid 
and  feeble  then— I  told  Sir  Basil  the  outlines  of  our  history 
—how  the  aristocrat,  boasting  of  his  birth  and  his  wealti^ 


3i6  A  BROKEN  WEDDmC-RmO: 

had  come  to  take  my  child  from  me.  I  told  him  of  the 
choice  which  the  two  sisters  made — how  one  had  gone  to 
the  stranger,  giving  up  home,  sister,  me — her  father,  how 
the  other,  loving  and  faithful,  had  clung  to  me.  I  uttered 
no  name,  I  said  no  word  which  could  lead  him  to  think  of 
you.  Then  I  asked  him  frankly  what  he  thought  of  the 
daughter  who  had  deserted  me  and  given  up  her  sister.  He 
did  not  know  of  whom  I  was  speaking,  he  had  no  clue ;  he 
simply  heard  the  story,  and  he  judged  you  from  his  own 
heart.  He  said  the  daughter  who  had  so  deserted  me, 
who  had  abandoned  her  sister,  was  *  selfish ;'  that  was  his 
word — '  selfish.*  Is  it  true,  Leah  ?  If  it  be  so,  I  give  you 
an  opportunity  of  retrieving  yourself,  of  making  a  sacrifice 
that  will  prove  you  are  not  selfish." 

Suddenly  the  blaze  of  the  fire  seemed  to  die  out,  and 
the  light  faded.  Leah  could  not  see  the  letters ;  they  swam 
in  a  mist  before  her  eyes.  She  rose  mechanically  and  went 
to  the  fire;  she  stirred  it  again.  The  flames  flickered  this 
time  on  a  face  white  as  the  face  of  the  dead  ;  and  she  sat 
down  again  where,  when  she  raised  her  eyes,  they  must 
fall  on  the  dreary  desolation  and  beauty  of  CEnone. 


CHAPTER  L, 

The  firelight  fell  on  the  passages  of  the  letter  when  Leah 
opened  it  again,  and  it  seemed  to  her  as  though  the  words 
were  written  in  blood,  the  scarlet  flames  leaping  and  playing 
in  mockery  over  it.  ]t  was  a  death-warrant  that  she  held 
in  her  hands.     She  went  on  reading: — 

"  I  cannot  tell  what  steps  I  should  have  taken  or  what 
I  should  have  done  but  that  I  was  seized  then  with  a  serious 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  3x7 

illness.  Hettie  was  most  devoted  to  me  ;  she  nursed  me 
hy  day  and  night.  No  man  had  ever  a  more  devoted  child. 
1  contrasted  my  two  daughters — the  one  living  at  the  great 
house  away  over  the  green  hill,  in  the  midst  of  luxury  and 
magnificence,  beautiful,  dainty,  ind  proud,  ignoring  my  ex- 
istence, not  knowing,  caring,  or  inquiring  whether  I  was 
living  or  dead,  the  other  working  for  me  by  day  and  by 
night,  devoting  her  whole  life  \o  me.  The  contrast  was 
net  in  your  favor,  Leah.  I  was  ill  for  many  days,  but  I 
know  that  he  came.  I  slept  in  the  front  of  the  cottage  ; 
and  during  the  summer  nights,  when  the  window  was  open, 
I  could  hear  the  murmur  of  their  voices,  and  I  knew  by 
the  sound  of  his,  musical  with  love,  how  matters  stood. 

"  Sometimes  Hettie  would  tell  me  that  the  *  strange  gen- 
tleman' had  been,  and  that  he  had  left  a  message  for  me. 
She  always  turned  from  me,  lest  I  should  read  the  secret 
of  her  face.  She  never  knew  his  real  namp  ;  if  ever  we 
called  him  by  name,  we  spoke  of  *  Glen,'  which  I  knew  to 
be  the  title  of  his  place.  I  was  very  ill  during  those  few 
days ;  my  thoughts  were  not  clear.  But  there  came  a  sum- 
mer night  when  I  felt  better  and  stronger.  I  told  Hettie 
that  I  should  get  up  and  go  down  to  the  garden  in  the  cool 
of  the  evening.     She  objected  very  strongly. 

"  It  would  do  me  great  harm,  she  said.  And  she  seem- 
ed so  miserable  about  it  that  I  lay  still  ;  but  afterward, 
when  she  had  gone  downstairs,  believing  that  I  might 
sleep  for  hours,  I  could  not  bear  it. 

"  The  summer  wind  came  in  at  the  open  window 
the  birds  were  singing  their  even-song,  the  low  chanting 
of  the  waves  sounded  musical  in  the  distance.  I  could 
not  rest.  I  rose,  dressed  myself,  and  stale  quietly  down 
the  stairs  and  out  into  the  garden  and  round  among  the 
trees,  where  I  should  be  hidden  from  sight,  and  could  enjoy 
the'sweet  evening  air  at  my  will.  I  was  very  weak,  very 
ill.  The  fresh-scented  air,  for  which  I  had  longed  so  m^ 


2i8  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

tensely,  sent  me  to  sleep.  I  do  not  know  how  long  I  slept 
there  ;  but  when  I  awoke  the  moon  was  shining,  and  I 
heard  the  sound  of  a  woman's  voice  sobbing  in  great  dis- 
tress. I  raised  my  head,  and  I  saw  a  scene  that  has  haunted 
me  until  the  memory  of  it  has  driven  me  to  write  this.  I 
did  not  listen  purposely  but  I  could  not  get  away  ;  it  was 
to  me  as  though  I  were  present  at  a  death-bed.  The  sobs 
were  Hettie's  and  she  was  bidding  farewell  to  your  lover, 
Leah — Basil  Carlton,  She  loved  him — ah,  me,  how  well  ! 
And  he  spoke  up  like  the  honest,  frank,  noble  young  fellow 
he  is.  He  told  her  how  he  had  drifted  unconsciously  into 
love  for  her,  that  he  was  bound  in  honor  to  marry  some  one 
else,  and  therefore  he  must  go. 

"  Leah,  give  heed  to  my  words.  I  do  not  know  why 
Sir  Basil  asked  you  to  marry  him.  I  am  sure  that  it  was 
not  because  he  loved  you.  I  am  sure,  too,  that  he  acted 
in  all  loyalty.  He  came  down  to  South  wood  and  saw  your 
sister  quite  accidentally  ;  he  fell  in  love  with  her  without 
knowing  it.  Hettie  loves  him  with  her  whole  heart,  and 
will  love  no  one  else  while  she  lives.  They  parted  in  sor- 
row and  tears,  both  loyal,  both  honest,  both  true.  Whether 
they  will  meet  again  I  know  not — I  leave  that  with 
you.  The  doctor  has  told  me  to-day  that  I  have  not  many 
weeks  to  live,  and  that  nothing  can  change  my  fate.  Leah, 
I  cursed  you  ;  do  this  which  I  ask,  and  that  curse  will  fall 
harmless  to  the  ground.  When  I  am  dying,  I  shall  send  for 
you,  and  may  be  able  to  tell  you  this.  When  I  am  dead,  ask 
Sir  Arthur  Hatton  to  take  Hettie  home  ;  it  will  be  safer, 
far  better  for  her  :  I  can  see  it  now.  And,  Leah,  if  }oa 
would  be  truly  noble,  truly  generous,  if  you  would  make  a 
glorious  atonement  for  your  selfish  choice,  if  you  would  rise 
far  above  the  level  of  ordinary  womanhood,  if  you  would 
change  a  curse  into  a  blessing,  if  you  would  do  that  which 
will  bring  music,  and  beauty,  and  brightness  into  two  lives, 
give  up  your  lover  to  Hettie,  and  let  her  wed  him. 


A  BROKEN  VVEDDING'Rmc.  3x9 

«*  Do  not  think  I  am  heartless ;  but,  when  I  look  at 
Hettie,  when  I  think  of  her  devotion  and  love,  when  I 
think  of  her  tenderness,  and  remember  that  those  are  qual- 
ities you  can  live  without,  I  urge  upon  you  to  resign  your 
lover,  and  let  him  marry  Hettie. 

"  If — and  my  heart  does  not  deceive  me  as  to  what 
you  will  do — if  you  decide  upon  this,  you  must  act  wisely  ; 
for,  if  either  of  them  suspect,  the  suspecting  one  will  not  ac- 
cept the  sacrifice,  however  much  you  may  desire  to  make 
it.  Your  desire  in  this  world  is  to  shine  ;  you  prefer  bril- 
liancy to  love.  Love  counted  as  nothing  to  you  when  a 
stranger  offered  you  wealth.  Hettie  would  shun  the  bril- 
liant glare  of  your  life,  and  would  care  only  for  love.  You 
will  wonder,  Leah,  when  you  have  read  this,  whether  I 
have  written  it  from  motives  of  love  or  hate.  From  love ! 
I  alway  thought  you  had  somethimg  of  the  heroine  in  your 
nature — now  I  give  you  a  chance  of  revealing  it.  If  I  may 
map  out  your  life,  I  should  say,  *  Marry  for  wealth  and 
position,  where  your  beauty  and  grace  will  be  appreciated, 
where  your  pride  will  be  looked  on  as  an  additional  orna- 
ment. Do  not  even  seek  the  sweeter,  softer  consolations 
of  life  ;   they  will  be  of  no  use  to  you.'  " 

She  had  reached  the  end  of  the  letter,  but  her  senses 
fvere  confused.  Her  brain  was  dazed ;  she  could  not  think 
or  realize  her  position.  Her  whole  soul  was  steeped  in 
the  horror  of  dull  despair.  Slowly  she  again  turned  to 
the  letter  and  re-read  it  line  by  line,  word  by  word.  The  fire- 
light, with  its,  red,  flickering  flame,  fell  on  the  white  pages 
as  she  did  so,  and  on  the  desolate  face  of  ^none. 

It  was  her  sentence  of  death  ;  it  was  the  warrant  that 
cut  her  off  from  all  that  was  bright  and  beautiful  in  life. 
The  two  whom  she  had  loved  and  trusted  had  betrayed 
her.  Granted  that  Basil's  betrayal  had  been  unconscious — 
that  he  had  fallen  in  love  without  knowing  it — he  should 

u 


320  A  BROKEN  WEDDING'RING. 

have  told  her.  He  should  have  trusted  her,  and  have  let 
her  decide. 

*'  I  should  have  given  him  his  freedom,"  she  said,  with 
a  great  tearless  sob.     "  I  should  have  set  him  free.'* 

And  Hettie,  the  fair  young  sister  whom  she  had  nursed 
back  from  the  very  arms  of  death  ?  Ah,  well  she  could  not 
say  that  Hettie  had  betrayed  her,  for  she  had  learned  to  love 
him  without  the  faintest  suspicion  as  to  who  he  was  ;  but, 
when  she  saw  him  there,  when  she  knew  that  it  was  Leah's 
lover  for  whom  she  had  learned  to  care,  she  might  surely 
have  trusted  her  then  !  Lover  and  sister  had  betrayed  her  ; 
lover  and  sister  were  both  untrue  to  her.  Her  head  drooped ; 
the  fire-flame  died ;  the  desolate  face  of  -^none  faded.  It 
seemed  to  Leah  as  though  her  soul  was  leaving  her  body ; 
a  cold  chill  and  sense  of  darkness  came  over  her. 

"  If  it  be  death,  welcome  death  1 "  she  said  as  the  shad- 
ows closed  around  her. 


CHAPTER  LL 

It  was  not  death  that  came  to  Leah  Hatton,  only  a 
merciful  insensibility.  She  woke  to  find  all  her  nerves 
tingling  with  pain,  to  find  the  crushed  pages  of  her  father's 
letter  in  her  hand,  the  firelight  shining  on  her,  and  the 
face  in  the  picture  looking  down  upon  her  in  its  calm, 
grand  despair.  She  woke  with  a  pain  worse  than  the 
thrust  of  a  sharp  dagger,  with  a  low  moan  on  her  lips. 

A  faint  glimpse  of  hope  came  to  her.  The  story  might 
not  be  true.  Her  father  did  not  like  her,  and  he  had  per- 
haps taken  this  method  of  punishing  her.  The  very  hope, 
faint  as  it  was,  seemed  to  gladden  her  and  startle  her  into 
Budden  brightness.     The  story  might  not  be  true.      Let 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  321/ 

Vier  think,  let  her  go  back  in  mind  to  the  past,  and  see  if 
anything  in  it  bore  out  or  contradicted  it.  She  thought  of 
Dene  Abbey  first,  and  she  remembered  the  great  green 
hill  that  rose  between  the  estate  and  the  town  of  Southwood. 
It  was  on  the  other  side  of  the  hill  that  her  father  and  sis- 
ter had  lived.  She  could  not  find  that  the  faintest  notion 
of  being  near  them  had  ever  dawned  upon  her.  No  one 
had  spoken  in  her  presence  of  a  worn-out  political  agitator 
who  had  come  to  Southwood  to  rest  and  die  ;  but  she  re- 
membered that  Sir  Basil  had  been  very  strange  when  at 
Dene.  She  thought  of  the  long  rambles,  when,  without 
seeming  reason,  he  had  left  her  alone.  They  had  puzzled 
her  at  the  time ;  she  understood  them  now.  He  had  spent 
those  hours  at  the  cottage  with  Hettie  or  with  Martin  Ray. 
She  remembered,  his  abstraction,  his  gloom,  and  her  an- 
xiety about  him. 

It  seemed  to  her  as  though  her  brain  were  reeling.  Strange 
words  rang  through  it,  strange  sounds  came  to  her,  and  a 
voice  deeper  and  sweeter  than  any  she  had  known  sang  : 

"  Sweet  is  all  the  land  about,  and  all  the  flowers  that  blow. 
And  sweeter  far  is  death  than  life  to  me  that  long  to  go." 

There  would  be  no  sweet  release  of  death  for  her.  She 
would  have  to  suffer  through  the  long  years  alone. 

The  firelight  played  on  the  beautiful  face  of  ^none, 
whose  sorrows  she  had  sympathized  with  only  yesterday. 
Now  a  whole  age  seemed  to  part  her  from  that  time.  She 
tried  to  rise  from  the  chair  that  she  had  drawn  near  the 
picture,  but  there  was  no  strength  in  her  limbs.  She  could 
not  stand  ;  she  must  wait  until  the  first  shock  of  her  pain 
had  passed.  It  seemed  to  her  almost  as  though  ^none 
were  living  and  was  the  only  one  who  understood  her 
trouble.     Great  Heaven,  how  hard  it  was  to  bear  ! 

So,  through  all  this  time,  Basil  had  never  loved  her  ! 
Why  had  he  asked  her  to  marry  him  t  He  had  probebiy 


322  •       ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

mistaken  fancy  for  love,  and  only  when  he  met  Hettie 
knew  what  love  was.  She  (Leah)  had  worshipped  him  ;  had 
made  no  secret  of  it  ;  she  had  told  him  often,  with  kisses 
and  tears,  that  life  held  nothing  for  her  but  his  love  !  Oh, 
bitter  sorrow,  bitter  shame  !  He  had  kissed  her,  listened 
to  her  loving  words,  spoken  to  her  of  the  future  they 
should  pass  together.  He  had  prepared  his  house  to  be 
her  home  ;  he  had  given  her  a  wedding-ring  ;  he  had  dis- 
cussed his  future  with  her  ;  she  had  thought  of  herself  as 
his  wife.  He  had  allowed  her  to  tell  him  the  deepest  se- 
crets of  her  heart  ;  to  make  her  life  one  with  his  :  he  had 
let  her  believe  in  his  truth  and  his  affection — and  all  this 
time  he  had  no  love  for  herself ! 

Hettie  had  won  him — Hettie,  with  her  ^ir  face  and 
wealth  of  golden  hair,  Hettie,  whom  years  ^go  she  had 
forsaken !  It  was  Hettie  whom  he  had  loved,  and  not  her- 
self! 

"  I  will  judge  him  myself,"  she  said  ;  and  then  slowly 
in  her  own  mind  she  went  over  the  past,  beginning  with  the 
first  hour  that  she  had  met  him  and  ending  with  the  pre- 
vious evening,  when  he  had  parted  from  her  with  a  pale, 
worn  face,  as  though  life  had  little  brightness  for  him.  Not 
one  circumstance  escaped  her  memory.  She  recalled  the 
little  incident  at  the  Royal  Academy,  when,  referring  ta 
the  face  that  she  had  thought  like  Hettie's,  he  had  said, 
*'  It  has  the  tenderness  that. yours  lacks."  Time  went  by  un- 
heeded. She  forgot  everything  in  the  world  but  the  task 
she  had  set  herself ;  and  each  fact,  each  memory,  as  it 
came  home  to  her,  brought  with  it  confirmation  of  the 
truth. 

At  last,  with  white,  tearless  face  and  with  clinched 
hands,  she  fell  upon  her  knees  with  a  bitter  cry, 

"  It  is  all  true,"  she  moaned  ;  "  every  word  is  true  !  " 
How   long  she  knelt  in  the  glow  of  the  firelight  sh^ 
never  knew ;  but  it  was  the  sound  of  the  dressing-bell  that 


A  BROKEN  fVEDDING-RINC.  323 

at  length  aroused  her.     She  stood  up  then,  with  a  scared 
look  on  her  face. 

"  I  must  Uve  through  it  !  "  she  said.  **  I  must  meet 
my  uncle,  and  smile  as  though  nothing  were  wrong  ;  I 
must  dress,  talk,  meet  him  who  was  my  lover  ;  I  must  go 
to  see  Hettie,  with  this  sharp,  bitter  pain  at  my  heart." 


CHAPTER  LII. 


A  month  had  elapsed  since  the  fatal  day  on  which 
Leah  had  read  her  father's  letter.  She  had  made  up  her 
mind  now  how  to  act.  The  doctors  had  agreed  that  Het- 
tie would  not  recover  until  she  had  had  change  of  air,  and 
it  was  arranged  that,  when  the  first  breath  of  warm  weath- 
er came,  the  family  were  to  go  to  the  south  of  France. 
The  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Rosedene  were  already  settled 
there,  so  that  there  would  be  a  "  home  party  "  after  all. 
There  had  been  some  mention  of  the  wedding.  Leah's 
beautiful  face  had  paled,  and  a  wistful  look  had  come  in- 
to her  eyes.  She  said  that  the  wedding  must  be  delayed  ; 
there  could  be  no  thought  of  marriage  when  Hettie  was  in 
such  a  fragile  state  of  health.  She  spoke  calmly,  and  smiled 
when  she  remembered  how  little  any  one  knew  of  the  pain 
at  her  heart. 

The  general  had  demurred  slightly  when  she  refused 
to  hear  of  the  marriage  taking  place,  as  had  been  settled, 
in  the  spring. 

"  Delayed  marriages  are  always  unlucky,  Leah,"  he 
said  to  her. 

"  Mine  will  not  be  so,"  she  replied  ;  and  he  wondered 
at  the  strange  smile  on  her  face. 

He  had  thought  a  great  deal  lately  about  his  favorite 


324  ^  BROKE^t  WEDDING-RING, 

niece — she  was  so  terribly  changed.  He  tried  to  believe 
that  it  was  due  to  her  anxiety  concerning  Hettie  ;  but  that 
was  hardly  possible.  She  had  such  a  strange  expression 
on  her  face.  He  could  not  understand  it,  though  he 
watched  her  keenly.  One  thing  in  particular  struck  him. 
She  never  spoke  of  the  future,  and  her  interest  in  every- 
thing seemed  dead.  She  laughed  and  talked  ;  but,  to  his 
eyes,  theje  was  always  more  or  less  of  effort  when  she  did 
so.  Her  face  would  flush,  and  the  light  in  her  eyes  was 
too  bright. 

Hettie  noticed  nothing  ;  her  one  great  relief  and  source 
of  gratitude  was  that  she  would  not  have  to  go  throtfgh 
the  trial  of  seeing  Sir  Basil  again.  The  doctor  had  said 
that  she  must  go  to  Mentone  as  soon  as  possible,  and  that 
in  the  meantime  she  must  be  kept  perfectly  free  from  all 
excitement  and  must  see  no  one. 

Sir  Basil  and  Hettie  could  never  suspect  that  their 
secret  was  known  to  Martin  Ray  :  much  less  could  they 
imagine  that  it  had  been  revealed  to  Leah  by  her  father. 
Whatever  she  did,  they  must  believe  it  to  be  the  expression 
of  her  own  feeling,  the  result  of  her  own  thoughts  ;  they 
could  not  attribute  it  to  any  influence  brought  to  bear 
upon  her.  Her  life  just  then  was  very  quiet,  owing  to 
Hettie's  illness  ;  there  was  neither  visiting  nor  the  receiv- 
ing of  visitors.  Had  it  been  otherwise,  the  strain  upon 
her  would  have  been  too  great,  and  she  would  have  given 
way.  She  lived  through  it,  longing  at  morn  for  night, 
longing  at  night  for  morning.  Her  heart  was  dead  within 
her  she  scarcely  ate  or  slept.  There  were  days  when  she 
scarcely  left  her  room  ;  when  she  sat  there  stunned,  dazed, 
bewildered  with  the  weight  of  her  own  sorrow,  the  grief 
piercing  ever  and  ever  deeper  into  her  heart. 

No  one  guessed  her  secret  or  imagined  that,  though 
heiress  of  the  vast  wealth  of  Sir  Arthur  Hatton,  and  ac- 
knowleged  to  be  one  cf  the  most  beautiful  women  in  Eng- 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  325 

land,  she  was,  nevertheless,  one  of  the  most  miserable 
and  desolate  of  human  beings.  There  were  times  when 
she  reflected  that  she  had  read  of  the  agonies  of  death,  of 
people  lingering  in  torture,  unable  to  die  ;  but  surely  no 
agony  had  ever  been  so  prolonged  as  hers.  She  saw  every 
day  the  man  whom  she  loved  so  well,  yet  who  had  pre- 
ferred another  to  her.  She  had  to  meet  him,  to  appear  as 
usual  with  him,  the  horrible  pain  of  wounded  love  and 
jealousy  gnawing  like  a  hidden  cancer  in  her  breast.  And 
every  day  she  had  to  minister  to  the  sister  who  had  sup- 
planted her,  to  cheer  and  soothe  her.  When  she  was  con- 
sulted about  the  decorations  and  improvements  at  Glen, 
which  she  knew  well  she  would  never  see,  she  gave  her 
answer  plainly  and  clearly.  Without  a  break  in  her  voice, 
she  chose  colors  and  ornaments,  and  talked  of  harmonious 
arrangements,  and  then  went  silently  to  her  room  to  un- 
dergo the  agonies  of  despair.  And  when  Sir  Arthur  talk- 
ed about  the  future,  about  next  year,  when  she  would  be 
at  Glen,  she  always  replied  to  him  with  a  smile — but  that 
smile  was  sadder  than  any  tears. 

As  the  days  passed,  she  grew  thinner  and  paler,  and 
her  eyes  brighter.  She  never  sang.  She  had  never 
touched  her  piano  since  the  reading  of  the  fatal  letter. 
Her  interest  in  everything  was  dead. — She  spent  more  time 
before  the  picture  of  CEnone  than  in  any  other  place.  The 
terrible  repression  told  upon  her.  If  she  could  have  spoken 
of  her  loss,  if  she  could  have  eased  her  heart  by  a  flow 
of  passionate  tears,  it  would  have  been  better.  But  there 
was  no  such  relief :  it  was  all  speechless,  dark,  unchanging 
sorrow.     Great,  silent  woe  looked  out  of  the  dark  eyes. 

*'  I  wonder,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  if  I  have  accurately 
measured  my  strength. 

All  the  arrangements  were  made  for  the  journey ;  the 
Duke  and  Duchess  of  Rosedene  were  awaiting  anxiously 
the  arrival  of  the  sisters,  when  a  complication  arose.    The 


326  ^  BROKEN  WEDDIN-G'RING, 

member  for  the  county  had  died  suddenly,  and  this  brought 
about  the  very  opening  for  wh^ch  Sir  Basil  had  longed.  He 
was  determined  to  contest  the  election,  to  secure  his  seat 
in  Parliament,  and  then  to  make  for  himself  fame  and  the 
name  of  a  statesman.  He  was  born  for  it ;  politics  were  his 
vocation.  This  was  an  opportunity  not  to  be  lost.  With 
some  exertion,  and  the  help  of  Sir  Arthur  Hatton,  he  felt 
sure  of  success.  Of  course  he  could  not  accompany 
the  sisters,  as  had  been  arranged,  to  France,  so  it  was 
decided  that  Sir  Arthur  should  take  them  thither  and 
remain  for  a  day  or  two,  and  then  return  at  once  to  help 
with  his  canvass. 

The  news  affected  the  sisters  differently.  Hettie  had 
dreaded  the  journey  with  Sir  Basil,  yet  had  not  liked  to 
raise  any  objection.  Leah  had  told  herself  that  she  should 
take  her  last  look  at  his  beloved  face  on  English  soil.  She 
made  no  remark  when  Sir  Arthur  told  her  of  the  change 
jn  their  plans  ;  and  he  was  blind  enough  to  think  that  her 
silence  arose  from  some  little  resentment  against  her  lover 
— so  little  idea  had  any  one  of  the  true  facts  of  the  case. 
They  thought  Leah  very  quiet  for  some  days  after  that. 
Who  could  guess  that  in  her  own  mind  she  was  bidding 
adieu  to  the  place  she  loved  so  well  ? 

Once  she  asked  Sir  Arthur  to  drive  her  over  to  Glen- 
Sir  Basil  had  gone  to  London  on  business.  The  general 
was  delighted  at  the  request ;  he  rejoiced  to  think  that 
Leah  took  so  great  an  interest  in  the  improvements. 

As  he  drove  her  along  the  road  he  jested  with  her  and 
teased  her,  he  did  not  notice  that  she  sat  by  his  side,  cold 
and  pale  as  a  marble  statue  with  such  an  expression  of  bit- 
ter pain  on  her  face  as  would  have  startled  even  a  stranger. 
She  was  going  to  say  good-by  to  the  beautiful  house  that 
would  never  be  her  home  now.  She  wanted  to  look  once 
more  on  the  lavish  decorations,  at  the  rooms  prepared  for 
her,  which  she  would  never  use.    She  tried  to  picture  Het- 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  327 

tie  there — Hettie,  with  her  sweet  face  and  golden  hair^ 
who  would  be  so  well  suited  to  this  dainty,  picturesque 
home ;  and  she  wondered  as  she  went  through  the  rooms, 
whether,  when  Basil  was  established  there,  with  Hettie  as 
his  wife,  he  would  think  of  her  ;  whether  he  would  remem- 
ber her  and  her  great  love ;  whether  any  idea  would  come 
to  him  of  her  suffering  or  of  her  broken  heart. 

"  You  look  very  tired  and  ill,  Leah,"  said  the  general, 
in  deep  concern. 

He  had  caught  a  sight  of  her  as  she  came  from  the 
room  that  was  to  have  been  her  boudoir,  and  she  was  off 
her  guard.  He  was  shocked  at  the  white  face  and  the 
dark,  haggard  eyes.     He  kissed  her  lovingly. 

*'  My  dear  Leah,  what  is  the  matter  ?  Is  there  anything 
more  than  fatigue  ?  " 

She  raised  her  brave  face  to  his — he  never  forgot  the 
look  or  the  voice,  and  said, — 

*'  No,  there  is  nothing  wrong ;  and  I  have  done  nothing 
which  could  tire  me." 

She  looked  round  for  the  last  time  upon  a  scene  that 
she  was  never  to  see  again  ;  and,  as  she  drove  back,  she 
felt  that  the  pain  at  her  heart  could  never  be  sharper. 


CHAPTER  LHL 


"  There  is  something  strange  in  Miss  Hatton^s  face  to- 
day," said  Leah's  maid  to  her  confidante,  the  housekeep- 
er.    "  No  one  seems  to  notice  anything  wrong  about  her; 
It  I  am  very  anxious.     She  is  so  thin  that  I  can  never 
':e  her  dresses  to  fit  her  now  ;  and  she  is  often  so  color- 
-  that  I  have  to  \x?,&  />oudre  de  rose  to  make  her  present 
^Qle — she  who  had  the  loveliest  bloom  in  the  world." 


328  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING'RING. 

"  I  see  the  change,"  returned  the  housekeeper,  gloom' 
ily.  "  She  thinks  too  much  of  other  people.  There  is 
nothing  like  taking  care  of  one's  self.  She  has  studied 
everything  for  Miss  Hettie's  comfort,  but  I  have  never 
heard  her  speak  of  herself." 

*'  I  cannot  make  it  out,"  said  the  maid.  "  I  am  sure 
she  has  not  been  to  sleep  all  night  ;  she  has  sat  up.  I 
saw  death  in  her  face  when  I  went  into  the  room." 

*'  I  should  think  there  is  nothing  wrong  between  her 
and  Sir  Basil,"  remarked  the  housekeeper. 

"  No,  I  am  sure  there  is  not,"  was  the  reply.  "  They 
are  to  be  married  when  she  comes  back  from  France. 
Still  I  am  unhappy  about  her;  there  is  something  the  mat- 
ter, I  am  quite  sure.  One  night  I  had  to  go  to  her  room, 
and  she  was  moaning  in  her  sleep  like  a  dying  child  :  and 
I  have  never  seen  such  a  face  as  she  had  when  I  went  into 
her  room  this  morning. 

For  the  day  and  the  hour  were  come.  Sir  Basil  was 
to  go  with  them  as  far  as  Dover,  and  see  them  safely  on 
board.  They  were  all  four  to  start  by  the  midday  train 
from  Arley  to  London. 

Leah  had  measured  her  strength  that  morning,  and 
found  it  rapidly  failing. 

"  I  could  not  live  through  two  more  days  of  it,"  she 
said.     "  Thank  Heaven,  it  is  almost  over  ? " 

She  was  passive,  while  her  maid  took  all  the  pains 
she  could  to  hide  the  shrinking  of  the  graceful  figure,  the 
pallor  of  the  beautiful  face.  She  must  keep  up  appearances 
while  she  was  in  England,  among  those  who  knew  her ; 
but,  when  she  was  across  the  sea,  she  could  give  way,  she 
could  droop  and  die  as  she  would — but  not  here. 

She  bade  farewell  to  the  grand  old  home  where  she 
had  been  so  utterly,  but  so  falsely  happy.  She  stood  for 
some  time  on  the  terrace  where  the  passion-flowers  grew — 
the  spot  where  she  had  seen  her  lover  first,  and  where 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING^RING.  329 

her  heart  had  gone  out  to  him.  She  kissed  the  bare 
brown  branches.  They  would  live  again  ;  they  would  be 
covered  with  green  leaves  and  starry  flowers  when  leaves 
and  flowers  should  gladden  her  eyes  no  more.  She 
kissed  the  pictured  face  of  ^none,  recalling  every  word 
that  had  been  spoken  between  Sir  Basil  and  herself  on  that 
day  when  they  had  stood  in  front  of  it.  It  was  like  part- 
ing with  a  living  friend.  She  stretched  out  her  hands  with 
a  great  cry  when  she  took  her  last  look  round  the  room 
where  she  had  spent  such  happy  hours.  All  earth  and  air 
seemed  burning  fire.  Oh  for  rest,  for  change,  for  the  cold- 
ness even  of  the  grave  > 

Those  who  saw  Miss  Hatton*s  face  when  she  left  Brent- 
wood never  forgot  it. 

It  was  a  strange  journey  to  Dover.  Sir  Arthur  was 
the  only  one  who  talked.  Hettie  avoided  either  looking 
at  or  speaking  to  Sir  Basil,  and  Leah  could  have  laughed 
in  bitter  amusement  at  the  scene.  Sir  Arthur  spoke  of  his 
nieces's  return,  of  the  marriage,  of  Glen,  of  Basil  in 
Parliament,  and  saw  nothing  wrong. 

They  stood  together  on  deck  at  last,  a  blue  sky  above 
them,  the  sun  shining  on  the  white  cliffs  of  Dover  and  on 
the  sea,  which  was  almost  as  smooth  as  a  mirror. 

Sir  Arthur  took  Hettie  to  the  other  side  of  the  vessel. 

"  They  will  have  so  much  to  say  to  each  other  ;  lovers 
always  have.     We  will  leave  them  alone,  Hettie." 

So  they  stood  side  by  side,  the  deathly  pallor  of  Leah's 
face  bidden  by  her  veil.  A  terrible  calm  had  fallen  over 
her.  She  loved  Sir  Basil  still  with  her  whole  heart  ;  she 
could  have  knelt  down  there,  and  have  covered  his  hands 
with  burning  kisses  and  burning  tears.  She  held  them 
for  9  moment  in  a  close  grasp,  while  she  looked  in  his 
face  for  the  last  tim<i.  The  solemn  shadow  of  eternity 
lay  over  her.  ^ 

He  was  telling  her  something  about  Glen  and  about 


330  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

Parliament.  She  did  not  hear  the  words.  To  her  the 
moment  was  solemn,  as  though  her  soul  were  on  her  lips, 
and  her  eyes  were  fixed  on  his  with  a  strained,  lingering 
gaze.  How  well  she  had  loved  him  !  And  he  had  cared 
nothing  for  her  ;  he  had  preferred  some  one  else.  He  was 
asking  her  if  she  was  sorry  to  leave  him,  and  she  was  un- 
able to  answer  him.  The  white  lips  were  quite  stiff  and 
cold. 

Then  there  came  a  shout  from  the  sailors.  All  was  in 
readiness  ;  those  who  were  for  shore  must  leave.  The 
moments  were  numbered ;  her  eyes  never  left  him,  her 
hand  still  held  his. 

**  I  must  go,"  he  said.     "  Good-by,  Leah." 

He  bent  down  and  kissed  her  lips.  He  started  to 
find  them  so  cold. 

"  Good-by,"  he  repeated.  "  A  pleasant,  prosperous 
journey,  Leah,  and  a  happy  return." 

"  Good-by,  Basil  ;  good-by  my  love,"  she  said :  and 
the  next  moment  she  was  looking  over  the  ^yaters  alone. 

The  rest  of  the  journey  was  like  a  dream  to  her,  and 
she  never  awoke  from  it  until  she  stood  in  the  salon  of 
the  villa  at  Mentone,  and  saw  the  duchess  regarding  her 
wth  tearful  eyes. 

"  Great  Heaven,"  she  cried,  "  this  is  not  Leah  ;  this 
is  a  shadow !  I  thought  it  was  Hettie  who  had  been 
ill!" 

"  So  it  was.  I  have  not  been  ill,"  said  a  voice  which 
the  duchess  hardly  recognized  as  Leah's.  "  I  am  well ; 
but  my  journey  has  tired  me." 

"  What  can  be  the  matter  ?  What  has  gone  wrqng  in 
the  girl's  life  }  "  thought  the  kindly  woman.  "  The  only 
*hing  that  she  reminds  me  of  is  a  flower  broken  by  a  tem- 
pest.'* 

When  chance  gave  her  a  few  minutes  alone  with  the 
general,  she  turned  to  him  with  an  anxious  face. 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  331 

"  Sir  Arthur,"  she  said,  abruptly,  "  What  has  hap. 
pened  to  Leah  ?  " 

"  To  Leah  ?    Nothing,"  he  replied. 

**  Nothing  !  "  said  the  duchess.  "  Are  you  blind,  that 
you  cannot  see  ?     She  has  death  in  her  face." 

"  My  dear  duchess,  you  exaggerate,"  answered  Sir 
Arthur,  laughing.  "  She  has  not  been  well  lately  ;  she 
has  tired  herself  by  nursing  Hettie.  Besides,  the  journey 
has  been  a  trying  one." 

"  Nonsense  !  "  said  the  duchess.  "  That  will  not  ac- 
count for  the  change.  Tell  me — for  I  am  her  best  friend 
— is  all  right  between  Leah  and  Sir  Basil  ? " 

"  Yes.  The  wedding  has  been  delayed  on  account  of 
Hettie's  illness,  but  Leah  does  not  mind  it.  Basil  would 
have  been  with  us  now  but  for  the  Parliamentary  busi- 
ness." 

"  And  you  are  quite  certain  that  there  has  been  no 
misunderstanding  between  them  ?  "  pursued  the  duchess. 

"  Certain  ?  Most  assuredly  !  Basil  came  with  us  as 
far  as  Dover ;  and  you  should  have  seen  the  lovers  parting  I 
All  is  right  there." 

"  Beautiful  Leah  Hatton  is  going  to  die,"  said  the 
duchess  to  herself  ;  "  and  nothing  will  persuade  me  that 
all  is  well  between  her  and  her  lover." 

The  general  did  not  feel  quite  so  sure  that  all  was  right 
when  he  parted  from  his  niece.  She  was  not  looking  well, 
certainly,  and  the  way  in  which  she  hung  round  his  neck 
with  kisses,  and  murmured  words  of  gratitude  struck  him. 

The  duchess  made  one  effort  to  win  the  girl's  confi- 
dence. The  family  had  been  a  week  at  Mentone,  and 
Hettie  was  already  much  better. 

"  Leah,"  she  said,  gently,  one  day,  taking  her  hand, 
"  you  know  I  have  always  been  your  best  friend.  I  love 
you  with  a  great  affection,  and  I  am  more  than  distressed 
about  y^u.     You  are  not  happy  ;  will  you  tell  me  why  ?  " 


332  A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

Leah  bent  her  head  and  kissed  the  kindly  hand  that 
rested  in  her  own. 

**  I  am  as  happy  as  it  is  my  nature  to  be,"  she  replied, 
gently. 

"  Tell  me,  Leah,  is  all  well  with  yo^  and  Sir  Basil  ?  " 

*•' All  is  well,"  she  answered.  "  Dear  duchess,  I  have 
nothing  to  tell.  If  I  had,  it  would  be  told  to  you,  my 
best  friend." 

Her  Grace  of  Rosedene  was  not  satisfied. 

**  If  there  is  nothing  to  cause  you  any  unhappiness 
then  I  am  convinced  -that  you  are  altogether  out  of  health. 
No  girl  could  look  as  you  do  without  some  reason  for  it. 
You  have  completely  changed.  Every  one  is  asking  me 
what  is  wrong  with  you." 

After  that  Leah  took  a  sudden  resolution. 

There  was  in  Mentone  a  celebrated  English  physician, 
Dr.  Evan  Griffiths — a  skilful,  prosperous  man,  very  popular 
among  the  invalids  and  the  English  at  Mentone.  He  lived 
with  his  mother  in  a  pretty  little  villa.  Popular  as  he  was, 
he  had  never  married.  It  was  said  that  he  had  no  time 
for  wooing. 

One  evening,  as  Dr,  Griffiths  sat  alone  in  his  study, 
the  servant  announced  a  young  lady.  She  had  sent  no 
card  and  had  given  no  name,  but  looked  very  ill. 

At  first  the  doctor  felt  annoyed.  He  had  no  liking 
for  mysterious  patients,  and  felt  it  hard  that  he  could  not 
have  one  cigar  in  peace  over  the  Lancet. 

"  Show  the  lady  in  here,"  he  said,  impatiently. 

But  his  impatience  died  away  when  a  tall,  closely  veiled 
woman  came  in  and  stood  silently  before  him. 

She  did  not  speak  until  the  ser\'ant  had  closed  the 
door,  then  she  raised  her  veil  so  that  he  could  see  her 
face  and  he  was  startled  by  its  delicacy  and  wonderful 
beauty. 

**  I  know  that  I  am  calling  at  an  unusual  time,'*  she 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  333 

said.  "  I  thank  you  much  for  seeing  me.  I  have  a  ques- 
tion to  ask — a  question  of  life  or  death.  Will  you  answer 
it  ?  " 

"  If  I  can,"  said  the  doctor.  "  Does  it  concern  your- 
self i  " 

"  Yes."  she  replied. 

And  then  he  felt  that  death  and  not  life  would  be  the 
answer,  if  he  could  judge  from  her  face. 


CHAPTER  LIV. 


Dr.  Griffith  placed  a  chair  for  his  beautiful  young 
patient,  and,  standing  by  the  table,  waited  until  she  spoke. 

"  Do  people,"  she  said  abruptly,"  ever  die  of  a  broken 
heart  ? " 

**  I  have  never  known  a  case,"  answered  the  doctor, 
**  though  I  have  heard  and  read  of  such  a  thing." 

*'  Some  months  since,"  she  said,  looking  at  him  with 
calm,  grave  eyes,  "  I  was  as  strong  as  any  one  could  wish 
to  be.  I  had  splendid  health  and  a  perfect  constitution. 
Now  I  have  hardly  strength  to  live,  and  every  one  thinks  I 
am  in  danger.'* 

**  There  must  be  a  reason  for  it,"  remarked  the  doctor, 
quietly. 

"  There  is  a  reason,  which  I  will  tell  you,  and  I  want 
you  to  judge  if  it  will  kill  me.  I  have  had  within  the  last 
two  months  a  trouble — a  terrible  trouble — one  that  I 
have  had  to  bury  in  the  depths  of  my  heart.  I  could  not 
speak  of  it,  or  hint  it,  or  place  confidence  in  any  living 
creature  concerning  it,  I  have  shut  my  secret  in  my  heart, 
and  it  has  been  preying  upon  it,     It  has  &aten  my  heart 


334  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING. 

away.  The  constant  repression,  the  desperate  efforts  I 
have  made  to  seem  as  usual,  have  been  too  much  for  me  f 
and  now  I  feci  sure  that  I  have  some  affection  of  the  heart 
which  will  soon  put  an  end  to  my  life." 

He  began  to  understand  something  of  the  case. 

*'  Do  you  want  to  live  ?  "  he  asked  briefly. 

"  No  I  want  to  die,"  she  answered. 

Then  came  a  string  of  questions,  all  which  she  answered 
candidly  enough.  The  doctor  knit  his  brows,  and  was 
silent  for  some  time  :  then  he  listened  to  the  action  of  the 
heart,  and  grew  graver  still. 

"  I  think,"  he  said,  *'  that  you  have  always  had  a 
great  tendency  to  heart-disease  ;  and  now,  I  am  sorry  to 
say,  it  is  a  confirmed  case." 

Her  face  brightened,  and  she  murmured  a  few  words 
to  herself  which  he  did  not  hear. 

"  I  wish,"  she  said  gravely,  "  to  hear  the  plain  truth. 
It  will  not  frighten  me.     I  prefer  death  to  life." 

"  It  is  a  hard  truth  which  I  have  to  tell  you,"  he  an- 
swered, gently. 

"  I  am  ready  to  hear  it,"  she  said. 

"  It  is  this.  I  think  it  probable  that  you  have  always 
had  a  tendency  to  heart  disease.  Perhaps,  had  your  life 
been  happy  and  without  trouble,  it  might  never  have  de- 
veloped itself  ;  but  the  pain  you  have  suffered  and  the  re- 
pression have  made  it  fatal.  You  understand  the  word 
fatal r  " 

"  Yes,  I  understand," — she  said,  "  and  I  thank  Heaven ! 
I  am  very  ill.  At  times  my  heart  seems  to  stand  still,  it 
ceases  almost  to  beat.  A  cold  perspiration  comes  ;  my 
face,  my  hands,  and  lips  grow  cold  ;  it  seems  to  me  that  in 
another  moment  I  shall  die.  Again  it  beats  until  I  cannot 
bear  the  trembling  of  my  own  body  and  my  blood  is  all  oa 
fire." 

"  Yes  ;  those  are  symptoms  of  disease,"  he  said. 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 


335 


•*  Tell  me  doctor,"  she  asked  "  how  long  do  you  think 
X  have  to  live  ? '" 

"  Not  long,*'  was  the  grave  reply.  "  In  a  great  measure 
it  lies  in  your  own  hands.  If  you  could  get  rid  of  this  care, 
if  you  could  prevent  yourself  from  brooding  over  it,  if  you 
could  rouse  yourself,  you  might  live  a  little  longer." 

*'  I  could  not,"  she  said  :  "  the  restraint  has  been  too 
great  and  too  persistent.  Will  you  tell  me  what  the  end 
will  be  like  ?  " 

"  I  wish  you  would  not  ask  me,"  he  answered,  looking 
pitifully  at  the  fair  face. 

"  It  will  be  the  greatest  service  you  can  render  me," 
she  said.  "  It  matters  so  little  to  me.  If  I  have  some 
months  to  live,  I  shall  carry  out  an  intention  which  I  have 
formed  :  if  not,  I  shall  forego  it !    Tell  me,  doctor." 

"  You  will  not  live  for  months,"  he  said — "  the  greatej 
the  pity." 

"  The  greater  the  joy  !  "  she  cried.  "  Will  it  be  weeks  ? " 

**  Weeks  in  all  probability,"  he  replied. 

**  And  the  end  ?  "  she  asked  again. 

"  The  end  will  be  sudden  and  peaceful,"  he  answered. 
*'  It  may  be  at  any  time.  Any  sudden  sorrow  or  joy  might 
prove  fatal.  Calmness,  peace,  resignation,  are  your  great- 
est helps.  Poor  child,"  he  said,  in  an  outburst  of  sud- 
den, tender  pity — "  poor  child !  Life  has  been  hard  for 
you!" 

"  Very  hard,"  she  declared. 

•*  I  wish,"  he  said,  "  that  you  would  follow  my  advice. 
I  could  not  save  your  life,  but  I  might  prolong  it." 

"  No,"  she  replied.  "  I  am  staying  here  at  Mentone  \ 
I  shall  die  here,  and,  when  I  die,  they  will  be  sure  to  send 
for  you.    You  will  not  say  that  you  have  seen  me  ?  " 

"  I  will  not,"  he  promised. 

"  Accept  my  best  thanks,"  she  said,  holding  out  her 
hand  to  him.     **  I  knew  there  was  something  radically 


336  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

wrong  ;  I  am  happier  and  easier,  now  that  I  understar,  1 
v.hat  it  is.     You  have  done  me  a  service.     Farewell  1 " 

He  thought  of  her  a  hundred  times.  He  wished  that 
he  had  detained  her,  that  he  had  forced  her  to  send  for 
her  friends.  He  reproached  himself  urtiu  the  end  of  his 
life,  and  yet  he  had  not  been  to  blame. 

"  You  look  better  to-night,  Leah,"  said  the  duchess. 
The  deadly  pallor  had  left  the  fair  face,  and  there  was  a 
smile  in  the  dark  eyes.   "  I  feel  more  at  ease  about  you." 

Leah  smiled  to  herself.  She  was  better  because  she 
was  drawing  nearer  to  the  golden  shore. 

There  followed  two  quiet,  peaceful,  and  happy  weeks, 
of  which  Hettie  liked  to  think  afterward.  It  struck  her  at 
times  that  Leah  looked  weak  and  ill,  but  she  made  no 
complaint. 

News  came  from  England  that  Sir  Basil  had  been  re- 
turned  member  for  the  county.  The  duke  and  duch- 
ess were  delighted.  Hettie  was  pleased,  and  talked  more 
about  it  than  she  talked  of  anything  else. 

Leah  went  to  her  room  ;  the  sun  shone  bright  and  warm, 
and  the  air  was  full  of  the  perfume  of  flowers.  She  was  tired, 
with  a  peculiar  feeling  of  longing  for  rest  which  was  new 
to  her,  and  her  senses  had  been  suddenly  sharpened.  She 
could  see  further ;  she  could  hear  with  almost  painful  dis- 
tinctness. She  had  a  letter  to  write,  but  the  feeling  of  fa- 
tigue was  so  strong  upon  her  that  she  was  hardly  inclined  to 
commence  her  task.  "  I  will  do  it  at  once,  and  then  it  will 
not  trouble  rae,"  she  said  to  herself.  She  went  to  one  of 
her  jewel-cases  which  was  kept  locked,  and  which  opened 
only  with  a  peculiar  key.  From  it  she  took  the  small  ring 
case  that  Sir  Basil  had  given  her,  and  drew  from  it  the 
old-fashioned  wedding-ring  with  which  she  was  to  have 
been  married.  But,  as  she  lifted  it  from  the  case,  ii 
snapped  and  fell  in  two  in  her  hands.  Whether  it  had  been 
put  away  in  some  awkward  fashion,  or  whether  some  one, 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING.  337 

in  looking  over  the  jewel-case,  had  taken  the  ring  out,  acci- 
dentally broken  it,  and  replaced  it  without  meniioning  the 
fact,  she  could  not  .tell.  She  was  not  superstitious,  she 
did  not  think- it  an  omen  or  augury  of  evil  ;  but  it  gave 
her  a  terrible  siiock.  She  trembled  as  though  some  great 
disaster  had  occurred.  She  had  intended  to  write  to  Sir 
Basil,  and  return  him  the  ring,  leaving  the  letter  to  be 
handed  to  him.  Now  it  lay  broken  in  two — the  ring  that 
had  been  worn  by  so  many  faithful  wives,  that  had  been 
given  by  so  many  loving  husbands — the  ring  that  she  had 
received  with  such  loving  trust  and  confidence — the  ring 
that  she  had  hoped  to  wear  until  she  lay  dead  and  Basil 
took  it  from  her. 

It  was  broken  now,  like  her  love,  her  heart,  her  life. 
What  would  Basil  do  ?  she  wondered.  Would  he  have  it 
mended  ?  Would  Hettie  ever  wear  it  ?  She  had  never 
shed  a  tear  since  she  had  found  that  Basil  did  not  love  her, 
but  her  eyes  grew  dim  as  she  looked  at  the  broken  ring. 
She  kissed  it  as  though  it  had  been  a  living  thing  and 
understood  her  action. 

A  broken  wedding-ring  is  never  a  pleasant  sight,  and 
is  always  supposed  to  be  an  omen  of  misfortune,  but  there 
was  something  unutterably  sad  about  this.  It  signified  so 
much  :  the  heart  of  the  girl  to  whom  it  belonged  was 
broken  as  surely  as  the  wedding-ring  which  lay  before  her 
snapped  in  two.  She  took  the  two  halves  and  folded  them  in 
a  sheet  of  paper,  sealed  it,  and  addressed  it  to  Sir  Basil, 
then  she  drew  towards  her  a  sheet  of  paper  to  write  the  let- 
ter which  she  feU  was  to  be  the  last  she  would  ever  pen. 


338  ^  SROKEN  WEDDING-RiNG. 


CHAPTER  LV. 

Leah  looked  out  at  the  golden  sunshine  and  the  bright 
blue  sky.  How  fair  the  earth  was  !  It  seemed  hard  that 
every  one  could  not  be  happy,  that  hopes  must  perish,  love 
be  wrecked,  life  all  spoiled.  Then  she  began  to  write. 
That  moment  presented  the  supreme  temptation  of  her  life. 
She  longed  so  intensely  to  tell  him  that  she  knew  all,  to 
reproach  him  that  he  had  preferred  another,  to  tell  him 
that  it  was  the  knowledge  of  this  fact  which  had  killed 
her.  She  longed  to  say  this  to  him.  It  seemed  so  hard 
to  die  and  make  no  sign.  He  w^ould  live  and  be  happy, 
and  no  one  would  ever  know  what  she  had  suffered  or  why 
she  had  died. 

She  sat  for  some  time  with  the  pen  in  her  hand.  It 
was  the  one  great  temptation  of  her  life.  Should  she  tell 
him  or  not  ?  When  she  came  to  die,  should  she  feel  any 
the  happier  that  she  had  left  him  with  this  sting  in  his 
breast,  this  memory  which  would  always  be  to  him  one  of 
bitter  pain  ?  It  would  be  ample  vengeance.  If  he  knew 
that  her  unhappiness  had  killed  her,  he  could  never  be 
happy  again.  He  was  honorable  and  sensitive ;  the  chances 
were  that  if  he  knew  the  truth  he  would  never  marry  Het- 
tie.  He  was  not  one  to  build  his  happiness  on  the  grave 
of  the  woman  who  had  loved  him  so  well.  She  judged  him 
rightly.  If  ever  he  knew  or  suspected  the  truth,  he  would 
never  have  another  happy  moment.  It  was  a  great  temp- 
tation. Her  heart  throbbed  with  it,  her  whole  frame 
trembled  ;  and  then  with  a  supreme  effort  she  conquered 
it.  They — nay,  even  he  whom  she  loved,  when  he  heard 
her  story — ^had  pronounced  her  selfish.  She  could  prove 
now  that  that  was  untrue.  She  could  make  the  greatest  sao 


A  BROKEN-  WEDDING-RING.  339 

rifice  that  any  woman  could  make,  all  the  more  noble  that 
it  would  remain  for  ever  a  secret  between  Heaven  and  her- 
self. She  would  not  tell  him  one  word.  If  in  that  past 
life  of  hers  she  had  been  selfish,  her  selfishness  would  be 
atoned  for  now.  She  could  write  a  simple  letter,  saying 
nothing  of  love  or  reproach,  nothing  of  life  or  death,  but 
telling  him  that  she  had  found  the  wedding-ring  broken, 
"  My  very  dear  Basil  :  To  my  surprise  this  morning,  on 
opening  my  jewel-case,  I  found  the  wedding-ring  broken. 
I  inclose  it.      You  know  better  what  to  do   with  it  than 

I " 

Swiftly,  suddenly,  as  had  been  foretold,  death  came  to 

her,  without  pain,  without  bitterness,  without  agony.  The 
pen  dropped  from  the  white  fingers ;  her  head  fell  upon 
the  paper.  She  died  with  a  smile  on  her  lips.  There  was 
not  even  a  spasm  of  pain,  no  faint  murmur  or  cry.  The 
throbbing,  laboring,  broken  heart  had  stopped  at  last. 
With  the  wind  that  chanted  a  requiem  among  the  great 
trees  her  soul  rose  to  heaven,  and  the  body  left  behind  grew 
cold  and  beautiful  in  the  embrace  of  death. 

So  they  found  her,  dead,  with  the  half -written  letter 
and  the  broken  wedding-ring. 

The  duchess  was  almost  frantic.  She  refused  to  believe 
that  Leah  was  dead,  it  was  utterly  impossible,  she  declared. 
She  called  for  brandy,  wine,  hot  water — every  possible 
restorative.  She  would  not  see  the  mark  of  death  on  the 
beautiful  face.  She  sent  for  doctors,  and  one  of  the  first 
was  Dr.  Evan  Grifiiths. 

He  recognized  her  at  once.  This  was  the  despairing 
girl  who  had  come  to  him  longmg  with  her  whole  heart  to 
die  ;  and  the  longing  had  been  granted.  He  was  accustom- 
ed to  many  a  sad  sight  and  scene,  to  every  kind  of  sick- 
ness and  distress  \  but  be  had  seen  nothing  which  touched 


340 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING^RWG. 


him  more  than  the  dead  face  of  this  hapless  girl.  Tearsi 
came  into  his  eyes. 

The  duchess  told  him  of  the  broken  wedding-ring ;  she 
thought  It  a  most  marvellous  coincidence.  And  the  little 
story  conveyed  to  the  doctor  almost  all  that  he  wanted  to 
know.  Of  course  there  was  nothing  to  be  done.  Dr. 
Griffiths  said  that  there  was  no  need  for  any  inquiry ;  the 
cause  of  death  was  heart  disease — there  was  no  doubt  of 
it. 

The  duchess  raised  her  hands  in  astonishment. 

**  Heart  disease  !  "  she  cried.  "  I  have  never  heard  her 
complain  of  her  heart ! " 

"  I  have,"  sobbed  Hettie.  "  I  have  frequently  heard 
her  complain  of  a  sharps  strange  pain,  and  of  her  heart 
beating  slowly." 

"  She  must  have  suffered  for  years,"  said  Dr.  Griffiths, 
but  he  did  not  add  that  the  disease  had  been  aggravated 
by  some  terrible  shock.  He  respected  the  secret  that  he 
had  kept  so  well. 

The  duchess  would  not  allow  anything  to  be  touched 
in  the  room  until  the  general  and  Sir  Basil  came.  The 
unfinished  letter  lay  upon  the  table,  and  the  broken  wed- 
ding-ring was  in  the  folded  paper. 

They  had  telegraphed  at  once  for  Sir  Arthur  and  Sir 
Basil.  Fast  as  steam  could  carry  them,  they  went  to  Men- 
tone,  and  found  the  terrible  news  true  that  Leah  was 
dead. 

All  the  calm,  imperial  beauty  of  her  youth  came  back 
to  her  as  she  lay  sleeping  after  her  long  fever  and  pain. 
There  was  no  pain  on  the  beautiful  face  ;  the  thick,  dark 
eyelashes  lay  like  fringe  on  the  white  cheeks  ;  there  was  a 
strange  beauty  on  the  marble  brow ;  and  the  proud  curves 
of  the  perfect  lips  were  set  in  a  smile.  The  duchess  had 
covered  the  couch  on  which  she  lay  with  lovely  white 


A  BROKEN  IVEDDING'RJNO  341 

blossoms  ;  and  so  Sir  Basil,  who  had  parted  from  her  on 
board  the  steamer,  saw  her  again.  He  kissed  the  pale  lips 
tnat  had  murmured  so  many  loving  words  to  him,  weeping 
like  a  child,  and  regretting  that  he  had  not  loved  her  more. 

The  duchess  gave  him  the  letter  and  the  ring.  He  re- 
ceived them  in  silence.     What  had  he  to  say  ? 

But  that  night,  when  all  was  still,  he  crept  back  to  the 
room,  and  laid  the  two  halves  of  the  broken  wedding-ring 
on  the  cold,  white  breast.  No  one  else  should  ever  wear  it ; 
it  was  buried  with  her. 

Early  the  next  morning  he  went  out  and  procured  some 
scarlet  passion-flowers.  Sir  Arthur  liked  him  all  the  bet- 
ter because  he  cried  like  a  child  when  he  placed  them  in 
the  dead,  white  hands.  One  could  have  fancied  that  a 
smile  passed  over  the  dead  face.  Her  secret  was  safe  for 
ever  now,  and  no  one  knew  why  she  had  died.  No  sus- 
picion of  the  truth  came  to  any  one  of  them. 

So  they  mourned  her,  and  no  sting  of  bitter  memories 
increased  their  pain.  Hettie  and  the  general  learned  to 
love  each  other  in  the  midst  of  their  trouble  more  than 
they  would  ever  have  done  in  prosperity.  They  mourned 
long  and  sincerely  for  Leah.  The  general  for  a  long  time 
was  quite  unlike  himself — he  seemed  unable  to  recover 
from  the  blow  ;  and  there  were  times  when  every  one 
thought  that  Hettie  must  follow  her  sister. 

There  was  a  great  outburst  of  sorrow  in  England  when 
the  papers  told  that  Leah,  the  beloved  niece  of  General 
Sir  Arthur  Hatton,  had  died  suddenly  at  Mentone,  of 
heart-disease. 

English  visitors  go  now  to  see  her  grave  ;  none  leave  it 
without  tears.  They  tell  each  other  how  soon  she  was  to 
have  been  married  to  some  one  whom  she  loved  dearly, 
and  how  she  was  writing  to  her  lover  when  the  summons 
came,    Leah's  grave  is  the  most  beautiful  in  the  cemetery. 


342  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING'RING. 

A  tall,  white  marble  cross  bears  her  name,  and  masses  oi 
superb  scarlet  passion-flowers  creep  up  it  and  overhang 
the  grave. 

Five  years  have  passed  since  Leah's  death,  but  her 
memory  lives  bright  and  beautiful  among  those  who  loved 
her  best.  Sir  Basil  and  Hettie  have  been  three  years 
married,  and  they  live  entirely  at  Brentwood.  Sir  Arthur 
implored  them  to  let  it  be  so.  He  could  not  bear  to  live 
alone  again.  So  they  had  consented  to  make  Brentwood 
their  home;  leaving  it  at  times  to  go  to  Glen,  when  the 
general  always  accompanied  them.  He  loved  Hettie,  and  as 
the  years  rolled  on,  he  looked  to  her  for  all  the  comfort 
and  brightness  of  his  life.  But  those  who  knew  him  best 
said  that  she  had  never  occupied  the  same  place  in  his 
heart  which  Leah  had. 

One  spot  of  Brentwood  was  sacred  to  Sir  Basil — ^he 
would  never  allow  it  to  be  touched  or  changed — and  that 
was  the  nook  on  the  terrace  where  the  passion-flowers 
grew.  He  would  not  have  them  cut  or  pruned  :  they  grew 
in  luxuriant  profusion,  and  he  allowed  no  one  to  gather 
them.  He  loved  his  fair  young  wife  Hettie  with  all  his 
heart,  yet  he  never  once  walked  up  the  avenue  without 
thinking  of  the  beautiful  face  among  the  flowers  which 
had  brightened  into  new  and  sudden  life  at  his  approach. 

He  was  very  happy.  Life  had  been  one  long  success 
with  him.  His  fame  was  ever  growing  :  the  time  was 
coming  when  his  name  would  be  honored  wherever  the 
English  language  was  spoken.  No  one  ever  knew  that  a 
woman  had  died  for  love  of  him. 

There  is  no  fear  that  Leah  will  be  forgotten  at  Brent- 
wood. The  beautiful  picture  of  her  shown  at  the  Royal 
Academy  and  called  "  The  Passion-flower,"  hangs  in  the 
drawing-room  there.   Every  one  who  sees  it  stops  and  looks 


A  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING,  -^^ 

with  wonder  at  the  lovely  face  and  dark  eyes  that  seem  to 
ioUow  one. 

Lady  Carlton  has  a  fine,  handsome  boy,  whoui  she  has 
named  Arthur,  who  inherits  her  blue  eyes  and  golden  hair. 
She  thinks  that  there  is  no  boy  in  England  like  him,  and 
Sir  Basil  is  of  the  same  opinion,  though  perhaps  in  his 
heart  he  loves  best  the  baby  girl  called  Leah,  whose  dark 
eyes  and  lovely  face  bring  so  vividly  back  to  him  the  one 
buried  forever  from  the  sight  of  men. 

One  morning  Lady  Carlton,  at  play  with  her  baby-girl, 
caught  her  in  her  arms  and  held  her  up  in  front  of  the 
picture  of  "  The  Passion-Flower." 

"  See,  Basil,"  she  cried — **  little  Leah  will  be  the  very 
image  of  her  aunt." 

Sir  Basil  crossed  over  to  his  wife. 

"  She  will  resemble  her.''  he  said,  quietly ;  "  but  I  hope 
baby's  face  will  not  have  tne  snadow  of  melancholy  that 
lies  on  this  one." 

"  I  hope  not,"  returned  Hettie.  "  Leah  always  had 
that  look,even  when  her  face  was  most  radiant  it  was  there. 
Oh,  Basil,  how  young  and  beautiful  she  was  to  die  !  " 

"  I  often  wonder,"  said  Sir  Basil,  "  what  would  have 
happened  had  she  lived,  Hettie.  I  never  like  to  think 
that  our  happiness — and  we  are  happy,  sweet  wife — comes 
from  Leah's  death." 

Hettie  looked  at  him*  thoughtfully. 

"  It  is  not  so,  Basil,"  she  said.  "  If  Leah  had  lived, 
you  would  have  married  her,  but  she  never  would  have 
been  happy.  I  think  she  wanted  something  more  than  one 
finds  in  this  world.  Her  nature  was  noble  and  lofty  ;  I  do 
not  think  any  human  love  would  have  satisfied  her.  Do 
you  remember  the  restless  longing  on  her  beauteous  face  t 
See — it  is  there,  even  in  this  picture,  She  would  never 
have  been  happy." 


^44  ^  BROKEN  WEDDING-RING, 

"Perhaps  not,"  allowed  Sir  Basil,  thinking  of  the 
broken  wedding-ring  and  the  letter  over  which  she  had  died 
— *' perhaps  not,  Hettie.  I  think  you  are  right,"  he  said, 
as  they  moved  slowly  away  from  the  beautiful,  passion- 
are  face. 

That  was  how  they  judged  her 


VUB^ 


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